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BY  ORDER  OF  THE   PROPHET 


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BY     ORDER     OF 
THE     PROPHET 

A     TALE     OF     U  TAH 


BY 


ALFRED     H.    HENRY 


Illustrated  by  E.  S.  Paxson 


CHICAGO,  NEW  YORK,  TORONTO 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 
LONDON  &  EDINBURGH 

M  C  M  I  I 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 
BY  FLEMING  H. 
REVELL     COMPANY 

June 


•  •  •  .•  • 


•  •  »  •       I 

•  ••  • 

•  •  •*  I 


TO    MY    WIFE 


M?sSD 


PREFATORY    NOTE 

In  the  fertile  valley  of  Utah,  lying  in  the  heart  of 
the  Rockies,  there  is  material  for  a  score  of  books. 
Some  day  its  full  history  shall  have  been  written, 
and  with  its  writing  must  come  a  revelation  of  con- 
ditions that  have  been  well  concealed  during  the  three- 
quarters  of  a  century,  in  which  IMormonism  has  been 
developing. 

This  book  deals  with  but  one  phase  of  that  life — it 
is  true  in  every  essential  feature,  and  is  in  strict  accord 
with  established  facts. 

It  is  not  an  attack  upon  Mormonism.  It  is  simply 
a  story,  dealing  with  certain  admitted  conditions,  and 
making  some  small  use  of  the  dramatic  materials,  which 
the  unimpeachable  history  of  the  times  has  furnished. 
It  has  no  slighting  word  to  speak  in  disparagement  of 
the  sturdy  strength,  untiring  energy  and  singular 
devotion  that  marked  the  lives  of  the  men  and  women 
who  did  pioneer  work  in  the  midst  of  incredible 
difficulties,  and  whose  sons  and  daughters  are  rising  to 
a  better  understanding  and,  it  maybe,  to  a  purer  faith. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

PAQB 

I. 

Carissa  Graham 

9 

II. 

Whitmonday  at  Gwennap  Pit      . 

i8 

III. 

Mr.  Brand's  Lodgings  Are  Changed   . 

28 

IV. 

Thomas  Batt's  Testimony    . 

37 

V. 

Mr.  Brand  Declares  His  Mission 

44 

VI. 

The  Course  of  Events 

52 

VII. 

A  Veiled  Courtship       .... 

62 

VIII. 

Mr.  Busby  Asks  a  Few  Questions— A 

Mormon 

Service    ..•••• 

71 

IX. 

Carissa  Acts  on  Her  Convictions 

83 

X. 

Ambitious  Projects 

.       93 

XI. 

First  Principles     .        .        .        • 

.     105 

XII. 

A  Cry  in  the  Night 

.     121 

XIII. 

The  Cat  Out  of  the  Bag 

.     128 

XIV. 

A  Glimpse  of  Winter  Quarters    . 

.     144 

XV. 

The  Start  Overland 

.     154 

XVI. 

Bits  of  Color  by  the  Way     . 

.     164 

XVII. 

Breaking  Ground. 

.     176 

XVIII. 

A  Dance  at  Fort  Laramie    . 

.     187 

XIX. 

Love  and  Scruples 

.     197 

XX. 

The  Disclosure      . 

.     202 

XXI. 

Introduction  to  the  Valley   . 

.     214 

XXII. 

The  Lion  of  the  Lord  . 

.     222 

XXIII. 

Reception  at  the  Beehive     . 

.     231 

XXIV. 

Obedience  to  Counsel  . 

.     242 

XXV. 

Extracts  from  Carissa' s  Journal 
7 

.     251 

CONTENTS 

CHAITER 

PAdB 

XXVI. 

The  Bishop's  Visit 262 

XXVII. 

The  De\nl  in  the  Valley 

270 

XXVIIL 

Materialism  . 

2S1 

XXIX. 

The  Hope  of  Escape    . 

287 

XXX. 

The  Ceremony  of  Divorce 

293 

•XXXI. 

The  Awakening   . 

304 

XXXII. 

A  Stolen  Interview 

.     315 

XXXIII. 

Christmas  Doings 

325 

XXXIV. 

Quibble's  Diplomacy  . 

334 

XXXV. 

Carissa's  Departure     , 

344 

XXXVI. 

Osborne's  Departure   . 

353 

XXXVII. 

In  Cache  Valley   . 

361 

XXXVIII. 

Maggie's  Interference 

371 

XXXIX. 

Alone     .... 

381 

XL. 

What  Came  After  the  Storn 

1 

393 

LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Routine  of  Travel  Soon  Became  a  Matter  of  Course 

Frontispiece 

She  Seemed  the  Ver>'  Personification  of  This  Entire  Move- 
ment         150 

He  Went  to  Her  and  Put  His  Hand  Upon  Her  Shoulder  200 

He  Studied  the  Easy  Attitude  of  the  Sleeper   .        .        .        .247 
She  Tried  to  Leave  Him  There  but  Something  Held  Her         369 


BY     ORDER     OF 
THE     PROPHET 


CHAPTER     I        .   ,  .v;     ;;..  .    ..,  ,,.,,. 
CARISSA    GRAHAM 

Carissa  Graham  had  grown  from  girlhood  to  woman- 
hood under  purely  masculine  guardianship.  Later 
this  fact  was  recalled  in  explanation  of  her  singular 
course.  At  the  time  of  this  story,  however,  when 
she  was  just  completing  her  eighteenth  year,  the  out- 
come promised  to  disarm  adverse  criticism.  For  the 
shrinking,  shy,  unformed  child,  who  had  brought  the 
burden  of  a  recent  sorrow  into  her  uncle's  great  house 
and  had  found  there  no  feminine  arms  to  receive  her, 
and  no  motherly  voice  to  comfort  her,  was,  by  some 
process,  transformed  into  a  trusting,  sweet-faced,  gen- 
erous-hearted girl,  who  had  won  her  way  into  the 
affectionate  admiration  of  all. 

There  were  some,  however,  even  at  this  time,  who 
felt  that  in  view  of  all  the  circumstances  there  was  still 
room  for  gloomy  forebodings.  Mrs.  Chamberlayne 
was  one  of  these.  She  also  felt  that  her  unquestioned 
love  for  the  girl,  and  interest  in  her,  should  permit 
considerable  freedom   in  the  expression  of  her  views. 

"It  isn't  Arthur  Gordon's  doings  if  she  does  turn  out 
well,"  she  remarked  energetically  to  Miss  Jayne,  the 
village  schoolmistress.  "For  all  he's  done  for  his  sis- 
ter's motherless  child,  she  might  have  become  any- 
thing.    'Be  like  your  mother,  Carissa;    she  was  a  fine 

9 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


woman,'  is  all  the  advice  he  has  known  how  to  give 
her." 

"Mr.  Gordon  seems  very  proud  of  his  niece,  though," 
urged  Miss  Jayne,  hesitatingly. 

"Proud  ot  her!  Well  he  may  be!  but  he  needn't 
take  to  himself  much  credit.     When  he  brought  her 

o 

home  afcer  the  funeral,  she  clung  to  him,  sobbing  and 
frightened.  I  was  there  and  saw  it,  poor  dear!  He 
just  kissed  her  and  petted  her,  and  when  she  was  quiet 
turned  her  over  to  the  housekeeper.  Since  that  day 
she's  had  no  proper  discipline.  She's  done  as  she 
liked  ever  since,  and  gone  where  she  pleased,  and  he's 
known  nothing  of  her  really.  ** 

"But  I  don't  see  that  it  has  spoiled  her,"  Miss  Jayne 
persisted,  timidly.  "You  say  yourself  that  there's  no 
lovelier  girl  in  the  parish,  and  Dr.  Brooks " 

"Yes,  and  Mr.  Busby  too,"  Mrs.  Chamberlayne  inter- 
rupted, with  impatient  contempt.  "They  think  she's 
perfect.  But  who  are  they?  And  what  sort  of  judges 
of  a  young  woman's  training?  The  one  an  ex-army 
surgeon  and  the  other  a  confirmed  old  bachelor  who 
has  spent  all  his  life  in  the  East  India  service!  I 
grant  that  she  has  a  winning  way,  but  that's  not  due  to 
her  bringing  up.  It  isn't  natural  for  a  girl  to  grow  up 
of  her  own  notion.  She's  read  what  she  liked  and 
formed  her  own  ideas.  She  goes  to  both  church  and 
chapel,  and  I  don't  believe  she  cares  for  either. 
Though  she's  grown  a  young  woman,  she'd  still  rather 
go  shrimp-fishing  with  old  Peter  Sayle,  or  boating 
with  Cecil,  or  sit  the  way  she  used  to  with  Thomas 
Batt,  in  the  engine  house,  and  listen  to  his  Welsh 
tales,  than  study  to  fill  her  proper  station  in  life.  I 
tell  you,   it   isn't   natural.     And  you  can't  say  she's 

10 


CARISSA  GRAHAM 

like  other  girls.  She's  too  impulsive  and  undisci- 
plined, and  I'm  afraid  that  harm  will  come  of  it." 

Mrs.  Chamberlayne  was  one  of  those  women  who 
will  permit  themselves  to  say,  of  those  whom  they 
love,  what  they  would  strongly  resent  in  others;  and 
as  she  spoke,  the  logic  of  her  argument  appealed  even 
to  herself,  and  there  was  real  apprehension  in  her  tone 
as  she  concluded. 

"She's  come  to  an  age  when  other  things  are 
expected.  She's  had  several  good  chances,  if  she'd 
only  offered  the  slightest  encouragement.  Arthur 
Gordon  should  be  spoken  to,  and  I'm  going  to  do  it." 

A  bit  of  common,  purple  with  heather;  two  fields 
enclosed  by  broad  stone  hedges  covered  with  grass  and 
trailing  vines;  a  stretch  of  open  wood,  the  prized  rem- 
nant of  a  great  forest;  these  and  a  well-kept  park  sepa- 
rated the  Chamberlayne  residence  from  the  old  stone 
house  where  Carissa  Graham  lived  with  her  uncle. 

It  is  true  that  she  enjoyed  unusual  liberty,  but  the 
large,  roomy  house  had  proved  a  safe  shelter.  She 
loved  the  place,  for  it  was  associated  with  many  happy 
memories.  She  loved  it,  too,  because  it  was  the  birth- 
place of  many  daring,  half-formed  dreams  of  the 
future,  and  she  had  no  knowledge  that  her  free  life 
within  its  sheltering  walls  seemed  strange  to  any  of 
the  good  housewives  of  the  neighborhood,  who  were 
naturally  interested  in  her  welfare. 

Her  "masculine  guardians,"  as  Mrs.  Chamberlayne 
called  them,  were  three.  Her  uncle  she  respected  and 
loved  in  spite  of  his  abstraction  and  habitual  air  of 
cool  reserve.  Mr.  Busby  had  at  first  frightened  her  by 
his  roughness  and  puzzled  her  by  his  outspoken  cyni- 

11 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

cism,  but  she  learned  to  recognize  and  prize  the  wise 
regard  and  true  interest  for  her  that  struggled  to 
expression  through  his  choleric  temperament  and 
brusque  manners.  Dr.  Brooks  was  the  only  one  of  the 
three  who  had  ever  really  entered  into  her  confidence. 
When  she  was  a  little  girl  he  had  teased  her,  and 
advised  her,  and  later  had  expressed  his  admiration 
for  her  straightforward,  truth-loving  ways  and  her 
generous  spirit  of  sympathy  and  helpfulness. 

"So  you  think  my  poor  miners  are  worthy  of  your 
tears,  do  you,  Carissa?  It  is  a  sad  story  of  their  desti- 
tution and  misery.  What  they  will  do  this  winter, 
with  everything  shut  down,  is  more  than  I  can  tell." 

"It's  just  wicked  to  throw  them  out  of  employ- 
ment," she  broke  in  fiercely,  "and  it's  terrible  to 
think  of  those  awful  bread  riots.  John  Odgers  was 
here  this  morning,  and  his  face  was  so  white  and 
strained.  He  wanted  uncle  to  use  his  influence  in  be- 
half of  the  men  who  have  been  arrested.  He  said  it 
was  hunger,  their  own  hunger  and  the  hunger  of  their 
wives  and  babes,  that  drove  them  to  it.  As  I  looked 
at  his  white  face  and  saw  how  drawn  it  looked,  I 
thought  it  terrible  that  men  should  be  hungry  and  look 
for  bread  and  find  none." 

"Well,  dear,  there'll  be  bread  and  boiled  turnips,  at 
least,  for  them  after  this,"  he  said,  with  grim  humor, 
"but  there'll  still  be  great  suffering.  You'll  find  the 
world  a  sad  place,  little  one.  That  is,"  he  added, 
with  a  bitter  smile,  "if  you  don't  forget  how  to  see 
and  feel  when  you  grow  up  and  take  your  place  in  it." 

"I  shall  not  forget,"  she  replied,  with  childlike 
earnestness.  "It  would  be  wicked.  Oh,  why  is  it 
that  something  cannot  be  done?     I  wish  I  were  strong 

12 


CARISSA         GRAHAM 

and  powerful  and  could  teach  those  who  live  in  fine 
houses  and  have  so  much,  to  think  and  plan  for  the 
poor  and  helpless." 

During  that  winter,  so  trying  to  the  miners  of  Corn- 
wall, Carissa  often  went  with  the  doctor  on  his  round 
of  visits  to  their  destitute  homes.  She  gave  them  of 
her  sympathy  and  of  her  smiles,  which  often  struggled 
through  tears,  and  brought  supplies  that  she  had 
coaxed  from  the  housekeeper  or  from  Mr.  Gordon  and 
his  friends. 

Her  visits  came  to  be  eagerly  looked  for,  and  many 
a  quaint  expression  from  the  "quirky"  miners  attested 
their  appreciation. 

"She'd  put  a  heart  in  a  block  o'  stun  and  then  make 
it  burst  with  gratitude  because  of  'er  pity,"  said  one 
stalwart  fellow,  as  he  stood  watching  her  breaking 
bread  for  his  children. 

As  they  were  returning  from  one  of  these  trips  and 
she  was  feeling  a  vague  sense  of  depression  and  dis- 
satisfaction, Dr.  Brooks  suddenly  broke  the  silence  in 
a  musing  tone. 

"Do  you  know,  Carissa,  you  are  growing  to  remind 
me  of  your  father?" 

She  turned  her  face  eagerly  toward  him  and  clasped 
her  small  hands  tightly  under  the  robe. 

"You  never  knew  him,"  he  went  on,  reverently, 
"but  he  was  one  of  the  truest  men  that  ever  lived,  and 
my  best  friend.  I  was  surgeon  in  the  same  regiment 
where  he  was  chaplain.  He  was  naturally  a  great 
student,  but  the  welfare  of  the  boys  was  at  his  heart. 
We  were  on  foreign  service  together  when  he  died. 
It  can  truly  be  said  of  him,  Carissa,  that  he  gave  him- 
self for  others.     There  was  a  great  deal  of  sickness, 

13 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


the  men  were  homesick  and  their  hearts  were  tender; 
I  had  little  influence  over  him  to  lead  him  to  spare 
himself  when  duty  called,  and  he  wore  himself  out." 

The  doctor  paused  a  moment,  there  was  a  huskiness 
in  his  throat  that  he  needed  to  clear  away,  and  he 
knew  that  Carissa's  tears  were  silently  falling. 

"You  mustn't  think  of  him,  though,  as  sad  and 
gloomy,  or  stern  and  unbending,"  he  resumed, 
brightly.  "He  had  a  rare  combination  of  buoyancy 
of  spirit  with  deep  and  ready  sympathy.  That's  why 
you  are  like  him,  Carissa.  I  can  see  him  now — the 
life  of  the  mess.  He  was  as  welcome  among  the  gay 
young  officers  bent  on  a  lark  as  at  the  cot-side  of  a 
rough  private  taking  his  last  look  round." 

When  work  in  the  mines  was  resumed  and  comfort 
took  the  place  of  poverty  in  the  homes  of  the  miners, 
Carissa  continued  her  visits. 

One  result  of  her  intimate  association  with  them  was 
inevitable.  She  became  impressed  with  the  singular 
religious  earnestness  that  permeated  their  lives  and 
gave  color  to  their  conversation. 

Mr.  Gordon  would  doubtless  have  been  surprised 
had  he  known  under  what  instructors  his  niece  was 
shaping  her  beliefs.  He  had  furnished  her  with  suit- 
able governesses,  and  had  been  abundantly  satisfied 
with  the  reports  they  gave  him,  but  her  real  teachers 
were  of  a  very  different  sort. 

"A  Cornishman  is  a  man  and  not  an  echo,"  as  Dr. 
Brooks  expressed  it,  and  Carissa  possessed  the  tem- 
perament that  is  more  deeply  influenced  by  convic- 
tions than  opinions. 

Underneath  all  their  crude  and  conflicting  theories 
and  incomplete,  contradictory  systems  of  belief  there 

14 


CARISSA         GRAHAM 

was  a  mighty,  inherent  earnestness  that  appealed  to 
her.  These  rough  miners,  often  as  uncouth  and 
rugged  as  the  rocks  among  which  they  worked,  cher- 
ished beneath  their  soiled  coats  ideals  far  removed 
from  the  commonplace,  and  knew  how  to  express 
them  to  her  quick  understanding.  She  saw  in  them  a 
keen  appreciation  of  what  was  genuine,  and  a  hatred 
of  what  was  false  or  for  mere  show.  The  majority 
were  of  the  Wesleyan  faith,  not  because  it  gave  them  a 
better  intellectual  grasp  upon  the  problems  of  life  and 
destiny,  but  because  it  made  demands  upon  them, 
because  it  meant  sacrifice  and  the  doing  of  something 
for  others. 

It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  this  girl,  who  loved  the 
woods,  and  the  sea,  and  the  stars;  who  had  been  taught 
by  them  as  well  as  by  the  primitive  souls  of  this  rude 
mining  community,  should  find  her  absorbing  interest 
carried  outside  the  round  of  conventional  existence, 
where  it  might  be  supposed  to  lie. 

Mr.  Gordon  was  entirely  disqualified  to  recognize 
this  fact  or  to  appreciate  it.  He  was  conservative  in 
his  ideas,  and  had  conceived  certain  well-ordered 
plans  for  the  future  of  his  niece.  He  was  proud  of  his 
firmness,  and  easily  influenced  only  along  the  line  of 
his  prejudices.  But  he  was  naturally  indulgent  where 
these  were  not  concerned,  and  by  no  means  inquisitive. 
He  saw  that  Carissa  was  developing  the  graces  of  a 
rare  womanhood,  accomplished,  generous-hearted, 
high-spirited,  and  with  the  promise  of  great  beauty. 
This  satisfied  him,  and  he  never  doubted  that  when  the 
time  should  come  she  would  be  thoroughly  qualified 
to  fill  the  place  which  his  wealth  and  influence  would 
be  able  to  provide  for  her. 

15 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"It's  time  she  was  seeing  the  world  a  little,"  he 
said  to  Mr.  Busby.  "Mrs.  Chamberlayne  has  per- 
suaded me  that  I  ought  to  take  her  to  London,  and, 
when  we  return,  open  the  old  house  to  the  young 
people  of  the  county." 

"Humph!"  ejaculated  Busby,  gruffly.  "So  the  old 
cat  thinks  our  little  song  bird  should  be  caged,  does 
she,  and  put  on  exhibition?  Well,  I  don't.  Let  her 
alone.     She's  happy  as  she  is." 

"But  I  think  Mrs.  Chamberlayne  is  right,"  said 
Gordon,  his  features  assuming  an  expression  of  firm- 
ness. "There's  been  no  harm  done  by  the  free  life  she 
has  led,  but " 

"Harm!  I  should  say  not!"  his  visitor  interrupted, 
with  a  display  of  temper  which  was  by  no  means 
unusual.  "By  Gad,  sir,  if  you  let  her  alone  she  has 
in  her  the  making  of  the  finest  woman  in  England.  I 
don't  know  much  about  women,  but,  according  to  my 
notion,  you  don't  improve  them  any  by  clipping  their 
wings  and  teaching  them  to  hop  instead  of  fly." 

Mr.  Gordon  smiled  indulgently  at  his  old  friend's 
heat,  but  persisted  with  his  point. 

"I  was  going  to  say  that  there  has  been  no  harm 
done  yet.  I  know  she's  a  fine  girl,  and  I  am  proud  of 
her,  but  she  ought  to  have  the  opportunity  of  mingling 
more  with  the  people  of  her  own  kind.  She  sees  no 
one  now  but  young  Paget  from  the  rectory.  He's  a 
fine  fellow  and  comes  from  a  fine  family — the  Pagets 
of  Netley.  There  are  a  few  others,  like  the  Tre- 
maynes  and  the  Penhearnes,  but  it  isn't  right;  she 
should  have  more  society,  and  I've  made  up  my  mind 
to  see  that  she  has  it." 

He  spoke  with  an  air  of  settled  conviction,  and  pro- 

16 


C    A    R    I    S    S    A         GRAHAM 

ceeded  to  make  disclosure  of  some  of  his  projects  for 
the  future.  Busby  interjected  a  few  uncomplimentary 
objections  and  vigorous  words  of  remonstrance,  but  it 
was  clearly  for  the  sake  of  contradiction  and  not  with 
the  hope  of  changing  his  friend's  intentions.  At  least 
Gordon  chose  to  so  receive  them. 

Finally  Busby  rose  and  reached  for  his  stick. 

"Well,  you'll  have  your  own  way,  I  suppose,"  he 
exclaimed,  with  gruff  emphasis,  "but  thank  God,  I 
believe  she's  beyond  your  spoiling,  no  matter  how 
hard  you  try."  With  this  parting  shot  he  left  the 
house  and  started  across  the  fields. 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  the  rich  perfume  of  the 
flowers,  and  thousands  of  bees  were  buzzing  about  him 
in  their  tireless  quest. 

Suddenly  he  paused,  and  a  broad  smile  chased  the 
frown  from  his  face.  A  picture  of  Carissa  had  come 
before  him  in  all  her  sweet  courage  and  pride  of  spirit. 

"By  Gad,  sir,  you  may  do  what  you  please,"  he 
said,  striking  his  stick  upon  the  ground.  "There's 
honey  in  the  heart  of  that  clover  blossom,  and  the  bees 
will  have  to  buzz  a  long  time  before  that  store  of 
sweets  is  rifled." 

He  chuckled  audibly  as  he  resumed  his  walk,  and 
struck  persistently  with  his  cane  at  every  bee  that 
crossed  the  path  which  led  to  his  house. 


17 


CHAPTER  II 

WHITMONDAY  AT  GWENNAP  PIT 

The  year  185 1  was  drawing  toward  Whitmonday, 
and  in  the  homes  of  the  stalwart  miners  and  hardy 
sailors  of  Cornwall,  as  well  as  in  the  public  houses,  the 
talk  naturally  turned  to  the  great  gathering  to  be  held 
on  that  day  at  Gwennap  Pit. 

Preparations  were  forward  in  all  the  adjoining  towns 
and  villages,  which  would  soon  empty  themselves  and 
begin  pouring  along  all  the  roads  converging  to  this 
historic  meeting  place. 

There  was  much  of  mundane  interest  in  the  observ- 
ance of  this  annual  religious  festival,  although  the 
religious  sentiment  predominated.  A  great  London 
preacher — the  most  prominent  in  the  Wesleyan  con- 
nection— had  been  secured  for  the  occasion,  and  the 
majority  of  the  people  stood  ready  to  listen,  enjoy, 
and  criticize. 

It  would  prove  delightful  employment  for  a  large 
class  of  these  independent,  opinionated  Cornishmen, 
whose  theological  training  smelled  of  the  tallow  dip, 
and  was  as  deep  and  intricate  as  the  levels  in  which 
they  worked,  to  pass  the  sermon  and  the  preacher 
through  the  crucible  of  their  own  individual  judgment 
before  final  acceptance  or  rejection. 

All  the  old  men  of  Gwennap  Parish,  of  Redruth,  St. 
Day,  and  Newlyn  would  hasten  their  trembling  limbs 
to  reach  the  Pit  in  time  to  gather  at  the  front.  It 
would  be  a  sore  disappointment  to  any  one  of  these 
"ancient  singers"   if  he  should  fail  to  be  on  hand  and 

18 


WHIT  MONDAY  AT    GWENXAP  PIT 

in  his  place,  down  by  the  two  granite  posts  that  served 
as  a  pulpit,  in  time  to  raise  the  open  tune. 

'Toor  ould  Bailey  won't  be  there,"  remarked  Wil- 
liam Trethune,  as  he  slowly  looked  around  the  cheery 
kitchen,  where  a  few  friends  had  gathered  for  an  even- 
ing's gossip.  "  'Es  dafter,  jMary,  saves  un's  a  gather- 
ing in  'es  chuck.  'E's  never  missed  before  'nd  'e's  cut 
up  a  bit  weth  the  sore  disappointment." 

As  he  concluded  he  turned  his  eyes  inquiringly  to 
where  Caleb  Broom  had  taken  his  seat  in  moody 
silence,  but  no  reply  was  forthcoming  save  the  dis- 
couraging one  of  a  deepening  frown. 

"William,  thaat's  not  all  the  trouble  weth  un," 
explained  James  Trewin,  after  a  moment  of  oppressive 
silence.  "  'Es  heart  is  broke — 'nd  un's  took  to  'es 
bed.     'Es  dafter  is  an  ongrateful  huzzy." 

"No,  no!"  exclaimed  Caleb  Broom,  suddenly 
aroused,  and  a  flush  coming  over  his  face;  "her's  not 
to  blame,  when  she  comed  home  from  Redruth 'nd  told 
me — ,"  His  voice  broke,  but  he  made  an  effort  to  con- 
trol himself.     It  was  a  full  minute  before  he  succeeded. 

The  faces  around  him  expressed  nothing  but  interest 
and  sympathy.  James  Trewin,  who  had  gone  to 
Caleb's  home  and  had  insisted  on  bringing  him  away, 
now  put  his  hand  protectingly  on  his  shoulder.  He 
made  a  motion  to  shake  it  off,  but  finally  let  it  remain. 

"I  went  ower  to  Redruth."  he  finally  resumed, 
desperately  but  with  an  accent  of  doggedness,  "  'nd  I 
heard  un.  I  tell  ye,  'e  'as  a  devil!  Thomas  Batt 
himself  's  been  deluded  by  'es  slippery  tongue  and 
smock,  smooth,  smilin'  face.  Whaat  could  a  foolish 
gal  do  when  she  heard  un?" 

William  Trethune  had  heard  of  a  certain  new  preacher 

19 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

and  of  his  strange,  outlandish  doctrines,  but  he  had 
not  known  of  the  defection  of  Thomas  Batt,  nor  of  the 
fact  that  his  friend  Bailey's  daughter  had  been  won 
over,  during  her  recent  visit  to  Redruth. 

"D'ye  say  that  Thomas — Thomas  Batt  is  gone 
ower?"  he  demanded. 

Young  Broom  had  dropped  his  face  in  his  hands  and 
made  no  sign. 

" 'Un's  a  Welshman,  William,"  explained  Trewin, 
apologetically,  "  'nd  as  Caleb  sayed,  Mary's  a  foolish 
gal,  but  her' 11  come  to  herself  'nd  be  righted." 

He  pressed  his  hand  reassuringly  upon  the  shoulder 
that  trembled  beneath  it. 

"I  heard  un's  comin'  to  the  Pit  to-morrow,"  said  a 
fourth  member  of  the  group,  glancing  at  the  young 
man,  "  'nd  maybe  ye'U  see  un  and  hear  un,  too." 

Again  Caleb  was  aroused.  He  looked  up  quickly, 
and  there  was  a  menacing  light  in  his  eyes,  while  his 
whole  face  quivered. 

"Ef  'e  comes  to  the  Pit,  there'll  be  trouble,"  he 
cried  fiercely,  striking  his  fist  on  the  table. 

"Caleb,"  remonstrated  Trethune,  "ye  wull  remember 
the  day  and  the  place." 

"Wait,  Caleb,"  said  Trewin,  soothingly.  He 
watched  the  young  man  by  his  side  while  the  light 
slowly  faded  away  from  his  eyes,  giving  place  again  to 
the  look  of  sullen  anger.  Then  he  rose  and  faced  the 
other  two. 

"The  boy  is  right,"  he  said,  deliberately.  "Ef  un 
comes  to  the  Pit,  there  widl  be  trouble.  The  men  o' 
Newlyn  warned  un  clear  o'  their  houses.  Shall  us, 
men  o'  Gwennap,  sit  quiet?  I  tell  'e,  we  want  no  such 
preachin'  'nd  twistin'  o'  the  Word  here." 

20 


WHITMONDAY  AT  GWENNAP  PIT 


"James  Trewin,  ye  wouldn't  encourage  violence, 
would  ye?"  inquired  Trethune,  with  astonishment. 

"I'm  not  speakin  o'  violence,"  was  the  deliberate 
reply,  "but  ye' 11  surely  not  deny  thaat  a  judicious 
beatin'  makes  a  fine  corrective  where  persuasion  fails. 
Mark  the  word!  we  want  none  o'  'es  tractin',  and 
smooth  talkin'  and  preachin'  in  this  parish.  Come, 
Caleb,  us'll  be  goin'." 

Whitmonday  morning  dawned  bright  and  clear. 
The  services  would  not  begin  till  three  o'clock,  but  all 
through  the  night  the  sound  of  voices  and  of  passing 
feet  might  have  been  heard  on  the  roads  from  St.  Day 
and  Newlyn.  By  midday  fully  twenty  thousand 
people  had  been  gathered  within  the  enclosure  of  the 
fences. 

The  grass-grown  steps  or  seats,  running  entirely 
round  the  excavation  or  depression,  which  gives  the 
Pit  its  name,  were  already  crowded.  The  group  of 
patriarchal  figures,  made  up  of  the  "ancient  singers," 
was  assembled  in  a  conspicuous  position  well  to  the 
fore.  There  was  an  expression  of  ecstatic,  eager  antic- 
ipation upon  their  faces  which  they  vainly  tried  to 
becloud  with  an  assumption  of  indifference. 

The  preacher  of  the  day  had  not  yet  arrived;  he 
would  come  presently,  in  company  with  the  preacher 
in  charge  of  the  Wesleyan  Society  at  Carharrack. 
A  delicious  sense  of  solemn  novelty  pervaded  the 
assembly.  The  hum  of  voices  was  subdued.  New- 
comers entering  the  enclosure  were  impressed  with  a 
feeling  of  reverence,  as  though  they  were  breathing 
the  air  of  some  holy  place. 

Among  the  late  arrivals  were  some  fashionable 
people  from  the  towns,  and  representatives  of  the  lead- 

21 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

ing  county  families,  who  found  in  this  gathering  a 
unique  and  strangely  interesting  spectacle.  These  did 
not  enter  the  Pit  proper,  but  grouped  themselves  on 
the  outskirts,  sufficiently  near,  however,  so  that  all 
could  be  seen  and  heard. 

Squire  Gordon  and  his  niece,  who  had  recently 
returned  from  their  trip  to  London;  Mr.  Busby,  but- 
toned up  closely  in  a  great  coat  and  holding  his  stick 
firmly  in  his  hand;  Dr.  Brooks,  and  others,  including 
Mrs.  Chamberlayne,  from  the  parish  of  St.  Day,  were 
grouped  together  just  beyond  the  low  stone  wall,  to 
the  right  of  the  pulpit  and  opposite  the  old  disused 
chapel. 

Suddenly  absolute  silence  took  the  place  of  the  low 

murmuring   of    thousands    of    subdued    voices.       The 

ministers    were   in   their  places   and   the    service    had 

begun. 

"Oh  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing 

My  dear  Redeemer's  praise." 

The  leader  announced  these  lines  in  a  rich  musical 
voice.  This  was  the  moment  that  the  old  men  were 
waiting  for.  How  eagerly  they  caught  the  words  and 
lifted  up  the  tune,  only  to  find  it  borne  away  from 
them  by  the  united  voices  of  the  multitude. 

An  instant  of  silence  followed,  during  which  Carissa 
caught  a  few  clear,  sweet  notes  of  a  skylark  caroling 

high  in  air. 

'  'The  glories  of  my  God  and  King, 
The  triumphs  of  His  grace." 

Again  the  spoken  words  followed  by  the  eager,  tri- 
umphant singing  of  the  people. 

As  Carissa  listened,  a  strange  sense  of  standing  on 
holy  ground  stole  over  her.     There  was  worship  in  the 

22 


WHITMONDAY  AT  GWENNAP  PIT 

hearts  of  the  singers,  and  she  felt  her  spirit  lifted  up 
in  unison  with  theirs. 

Each  pause  was  thrilling,  and  the  reverently  spoken 
words,  followed  by  the  equally  reverent  chant  of  the 
people,  seemed  to  emphasize  the  thought  until  it  pene- 
trated deep  into  her  consciousness. 

"Jesus!  The  name  that  charms  our  fears, 
That  bids  our  sorrows  cease." 

It  was  not  like  singing,  it  w^as  as  the  voice  of  many 
waters.  There  was  in  her  ears  the  rhythmic  beating 
of  the  waves,  when  the  tide  was  rising  against  the 
rocks  at  Portreath. 

The  prayer  that  followed  was  simple,  direct  and 
fervent.  It  seemed  to  be  the  instinctive,  untaught 
utterance,  by  a  single  voice,  of  all  the  pent-up  aspira- 
tions and  longings  of  a  people  conscious  of  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  God. 

As  the  prayer  ended  and  the  second  hymn  was 
announced,  she  became  aware  of  a  slight  disturbance 
behind  her. 

Turning,  she  saw  a  young  man  struggling  to  make 
his  way  through  the  throng.  An  older  man,  whom  she 
recognized  as  one  of  the  miners  whose  house  she  had 
often  visited,  was  seeking  to  restrain  him. 

The  people  about  the  two  were  staring  in  dumb 
wonderment;  for  disturbances  at  Gwennap  Pit  were 
exceedingly  rare. 

"Let  go!  I  want  near  un,"  the  young  man  finally 
said,  roughly. 

"Wait,  Caleb,  'e  won't  get  away;  wait  till  arter  the 
sermon." 

A  few  bystanders  now  took  a  hand,  and  the  young 

23 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

man  sullenly  relinquished   his  effort.     Carissa  turned 
again  to  the  service,  but  the  charm  was  broken. 

Mr.  Busby  spoke  to  her  under  his  breath.  "They've 
had  preaching  here  nigh  a  hundred  years,  yet  these 
same  pious  hymners  will  sack  the  towns  and  villages 
round  about  the  next  time  the  mines  shut  down." 

She  shook  her  head  doubtfully  at  his  words,  and  yet 
the  thought  would  come — of  what  use  was  it  all?  She 
remembered  that  the  Gospel  had  been  preached  for 
eighteen  centuries,  that  John  Wesley,  who  had  been 
the  first  preacher  at  Gwennap  Pit,  had  spoken  of  Corn- 
wall as  *'the  Eden  of  Methodism,"  and  yet  she  remem- 
bered the  terrible  scenes  during  the  bread  riots, 
when  men  had  been  more  like  wild  beasts  than  men. 
True,  they  were  driven  to  it!  But  if  religion  was  to 
have  any  transforming  power,  how  was  it  that  selfish- 
ness and  greed  and  violence  did  still  persist,  lying  in 
wait  for  an  opportunity  to  burst  forth  in  the  lives  and 
hearts  of  men? 

She  turned  impatiently  from  these  disturbing 
thoughts  and  sought  to  fasten  her  attention  upon  the 
sermon. 

Mrs.  Chamberlayne  plucked  her  sleeve.  "Mr.  Paget 
has  seen  us,"  she  whispered.  "He's  looking  this  way. 
He's  only  waiting  your  recognition  to  join  us." 

"Wait  till  after  the  sermon,"  she  answered,  indiffer- 
ently. The  words  recalled  the  look  of  sullen  rage  on 
the  face  of  the  young  miner,  and  she  fell  to  speculat- 
ing on  his  purpose.  She  was  quite  unconscious  of  the 
fact  that  she  was  looking  about  her  till  the  sermon 
came  to  an  end  and  the  closing  hymn  was  being 
announced. 

As  Carissa  turned  back   toward  the   great    singing 

24 


WHITMONDAY  AT  GWEiNNAP  PIT 

crowd,  her  glance  was  suddenly  arrested.  Standing  a 
few  paces  from  her  was  a  stranger,  whose  whole  aspect 
riveted  her  attention.  He  was  taller  than  the  people 
about  him,  and  stood  with  his  arms  folded,  somewhat 
conspicuously.  There  was  a  stern  look  upon  his  face 
that  seemed  to  challenge  the  proceedings  he  had  been 
witnessing.  As  she  was  looking,  his  arm  was  suddenly 
seized  and  a  gruff  voice  demanded: 

"Be  ye  the  Mormon  preacher  from  Redruth?" 

The  stranger  gave  a  quiet  answer  in  the  affirmative. 

'Then  ye'd  better  get  away  fr'm  here  'fore  harm's 
done." 

"How  so?"  He  looked  coolly  into  his  challenger's 
face. 

"There  be  men  here  from  Newlyn  and  men  from  Por- 
treath,  some  from  Gwennap,  too,  who've  promised  ye  a 
beatin'.     I've  warned  ye,  and  ye'd  better  go  quick." 

The  stranger  glanced  about  him  a  little  disdainfully, 
and  caught  Carissa's  gaze.  A  smile  came  upon  his 
lips  as  he  looked  straight  into  her  startled  eyes. 

Suddenly  she  cried  out  and  sprang  forward;  two  or 
three  men  were  upon  him,  striking  him  with  their  fists 
and  with  sticks.  He  seemed  to  make  no  resistance. 
Carissa  sought  to  push  her  way  among  them,  but  it  was 
useless.  When  they  scattered  and  disappeared,  she 
saw  him  lying  at  her  feet,  white  and  senseless. 

"Come  away,  Carissa;  this  is  no  place  for  you,"  she 
heard  her  uncle  saying,  but  she  made  no  movement. 
She  was  gazing  at  his  face,  so  strong  and  commanding 
even  when  stamped  with  the  image  of  death. 

Dr.  Brooks  was  kneeling  by  the  prostrate  figure 
making  an  examination  with  practiced  hand. 

The  people  were  gathered  around  in  an  awe-struck 

25 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

circle.  The  greater  gathering  in  the  Pit  was  breaking 
up,  unaware  for  the  most  part  of  the  outrage  enacted 
so  near  by. 

It  seemed  an  age  to  Carissa  till  Dr.  Brooks  looked 
up. 

"He's  pretty  badly  hurt,  but  he'll  come  round 
soon."  Carissa  was  immensely  relieved  at  his  words, 
and  drew  back  by  her  uncle's  side. 

Seeing  Mr.  Gordon,  Dr.  Brooks  stepped  up  to  him, 
and  said:  "I'm  going  to  take  him  to  Clifford's.  It'll 
be  handy  there,  and  he'll  need  good  care  for  a  few 
days.     Can  I  take  your  carriage?" 

"Certainly,"  Gordon  responded. 

When  Dr.  Brooks  returned,  reporting  his  patient's 
recovery  of  consciousness,  and  the  whole  party  was 
proceeding  homeward,  he  said  to  Carissa:  "He  tells 
me  that  he  is  an  American.  He  said  that  his  name  is 
Eaton  Brand." 

She  made  no  reply.  She  was  still  strangely  excited 
by  the  scene  she  had  witnessed.  The  face  of  the 
stranger,  the  confident  smile  that  he  had  turned  toward 
her,  the  look  she  had  read  in  his  eyes  even  at  the 
instant  he  was  struck  down,  haunted  her. 

Mrs.  Chamberlayne  and  Mr.  Busby  were  making 
characteristic  comments  upon  the  service  and  the  cir- 
cumstances that  had  marked  its  conclusion,  but  at  first 
she  scarcely  heard  them. 

"What  surprises  me  is  that  he  didn't  try  to  defend 
himself,"  said  Mrs.  Chamberlayne.  "He  looked 
capable  of  doing  it,  from  what  I  saw  of  him."  Then 
turning  to  the  doctor,  she  asked,  inquisitively:  "What 
is  a  Mormon,  I  wonder,  and  what  has  he  done  to  pro- 
voke such  an  assault?" 

26 


WHITMONDAY  AT   GWENNAP  PIT 


"A  Mormon,  my  dear  Mrs.  Chamberlayne,"  Dr. 
Brooks  replied,  in  a  tone  of  mockery,  "is  a  very  dan- 
gerous individual.  The  specimen  under  my  care 
appears  to  be  an  especially  rabid  member  of  the 
species.  It  appears  that  he  has  made  a  few  converts 
to  his  doctrines  and  has  suffered  for  his  temerity.  We 
Christians  do  such  things  sometimes." 

"Disordered  religious  fanatics  of  that  kind  are  all 
alike,"  growled  Busby.  "By  Gad,  I'd  like  to  see 
them  finish  each  other  up.  The  only  trouble  is  there'd 
always  be  plenty  of  new  ones  to  take  their  place." 

Carissa  knew  the  warm  heart  that  beat  under  her  old 
friend's  rough  exterior,  but  his  words  aroused  her 
indignation. 

"I  think  it  is  terrible,"  she  exclaimed,  with  earnest- 
ness. "They  might  have  killed  him."  Then  her 
voice  softened  as  she  turned  to  Dr.  Brooks— "Is  there 
any  danger,  do  you  think?" 

"No,"  he  responded,  "he's  in  good  hands.  He'll 
pull  round  in  a  few  days,  but,"  he  added,  in  a  mis- 
chievous whisper,  "don't  let  your  imagination  run  away 
with  you.  Why,  you  are  trembling  now!  Remember, 
he's  nothing  but  a  poor  preacher  of  an  outlandish  sect, 
even  if  he  is  a  deuced  handsome  one." 


27 


CHAPTER   III 

MR.  BRAND'S  LODGINGS  ARE  CHANGED 

The  road  from  Squire  Gordon's  house  to  the  town  of 
St.  Day  led  past  Clifford  Inn,  a  public  house  well 
patronized  in  former  days  by  the  mine  workers  of  the 
district.  Of  late  years  it  had  lost  much  custom  ow^ng 
to  the  fact  that  the  adjacent  workings  had  been  aban- 
doned, and  what  was  once  a  populous  district  was  now 
comparatively  deserted. 

The  proprietorship  of  the  place  had  descended  from 
father  to  son  through  several  generations.  The  pres- 
ent incumbent,  old  Peter  Clifford,  had  been  much  con- 
cerned at  the  failure  of  his  revenues,  and  gladly 
welcomed  the  opportunity  of  receiving  into  his  house 
an  interesting  stranger,  about  whom  talk  would  be 
made  and  through  whom  custom  might  come,  espe- 
cially when  he  was  assured  by  Dr.  Brooks  that  his 
charges  for  housing  and  nursing  would  be  fully  met. 

He  was  somewhat  surprised,  however,  that  the  first 
call  of  inquiry  should  be  made  by  a  young  woman, 
and  he  carried  his  immediately  aroused  suspicions  to 
his  wife. 

"I  don't  like  the  looks  o'  un.  She's  ould  Bailey's 
daughter.  1  told  her  she  could  not  see  un,  and  that  it 
was  a  shame  for  a  comely  girl  to  come  to  a  public 
house  askin'  for  an  outlander." 

"Yer  an  ould  fool,"  said  his  wife.  "Where  be 
her?" 

"She's  waitin'  by  the  door,  and  sayes  she'll  not  move 
from  un  till  the  doctor  comes." 

28 


BRAND'S    LODGINGS    CHANGED 

Mother  Clifford  made  her  way,  as  briskly  as  was 
compatible  with  her  weight  and  years,  to  the  outer 
room  and  the  open  doorway  where  Mary  Bailey  was 
standing,  a  picture  of  distress,  and  struggling  with 
emotions  of  mingled  anxiety  and  embarrassment. 

"What's  yer  trouble,  Mary?"  she  asked,  with  good- 
natured  compassion. 

At  sight  of  the  familiar,  motherly  face,  or  at  sound 
of  the  kindly-spoken  words,  Mary's  struggles  suddenly 
ended  in  a  burst  of  weeping. 

"1  only  heerd  of  it  this  morning,"  she  sobbed,  "and 
I  could  not  wait.  Tell  me  if  he  will  surely  get 
well." 

"The  danger  is  by,  the  doctor  sayed  so,"  the  old 
woman  assured  her.  "But  Mary,  my  dear,  'e  beant 
your  sweetheart,  be  un?" 

"No!  No!"  exclaimed  Mary,  her  cheeks  and  neck 
flushing  scarlet,  and  then,  as  though  realizing  for  the 
first  time  how  her  action  might  be  construed,  she 
put  her  hands  to  her  face  and  hurried  away. 

The  course  of  events  that  finally  resulted  in  furnish- 
ing a  sensational  subject  for  conversation  in  many  a 
home  of  that  region,  might  have  been  different  had  not 
Caleb  Broom  observed  this  hurried  retreat  and  taken 
note  of  the  unmistakable  signs  of  her  agitation,  and 
had  he  not  perversely  applied  them  as  fresh  fuel  to 
the  fires  of  his  unreasoning  hatred. 

It  was  several  days  before  IMary  Bailey  found  cour- 
age to  go  again  and  inquire  concerning  the  welfare  of 
one  who  had  awakened  a  strange  glow  of  enthusiasm 
in  her  heart,  but  through  these  days  Caleb  had  kept 
watch,  brooding  over  his  sense  of  loss  and  gloomily 
pondering  schemes  of  retrieval. 

29 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Had  not  Mary  told  him  that  she  had  determined  to 
cast  in  her  lot  with  this  strange  religion,  and  that  she 
would  have  nothing  of  him,  unless  he  would  agree  to 
leave  everything  behind  him  and  accompany  her  across 
the  seas  to  a  new  land?  To  his  mind  there  was  some- 
thing darkly  suspicious  at  the  back  of  this  sudden 
change  in  one  who  had  been,  until  recently,  perfectly 
content  with  the  prospect  of  marrying  him  and  set- 
tling down  with  the  old  folk.  It  was  certainly  this 
man's  influence  that  had  infatuated  her.  Whenever  he 
thought  of  him  he  cursed  his  smooth  tongue  and  his 
smooth  handsome  face,  and  regretted  that  the  blows 
of  the  men  of  Newlyn,  who  had  anticipated  him  in  his 
purpose  at  Gwennap,  had  not  been  heavier  and  more 
effective. 

On  the  occasion  of  Mary's  second  visit  he  was  on  the 
watch  and  marked  the  timidity  of  her  coming  and  the 
happy  buoyancy  of  her  going.  She  had  heard  good 
news;  the  object  of  her  interest  had  sat  up  a  little 
while  that  morning,  and  was  on  the  high  road  to  per- 
fect recovery. 

The  sight  of  her  happiness  was  too  much  for  Caleb; 
her  appearance,  and  his  jealous  interpretation  of  it, 
drove  him  to  determine  on  the  immediate  execution  of 
what  he  had  long  been  pondering.  It  would  not  be 
difficult  to  raise  a  crowd  from  among  the  loungers  at 
Portreath,  or  from  the  tavern  frequenters  of  Gwennap. 
This  man  should  be  driven  out  of  the  country,  his 
handsome  face  should  be  spoiled,  and  he  should  be 
made  to  feel  that  this  parish  at  least  could  be  made 
too  hot  a  place  to  hold  him. 

As  Mary  came  past  he  swung  into  the  road  to  meet 
her. 

30 


BRAND'S     LODGINGS    CHANGED 


"So  ye  wull  not  gi'  un  up!"  he  demanded  of  her 
fiercely,  though  with  a  certain  shame-faced  sullen- 
ness. 

She  stopped  abruptly  and  looked  at  him  scornfully. 
The  look  went  home,  and  he  dropped  his  eyes  before  it. 

"Mary,"  he  pleaded,  awkwardly,  "what's  come 
ower  ye?' ' 

"Faugh,  you've  been  drinkin',"  she  exclaimed,  in 
sudden  disgust.  "And  ye  askin*  me  to  take  up  weth 
you!  Un's  well  ended,  so  un  es,  'nd  as  for  him  ye 
don't  know  what  yer  talkin'  about." 

She  passed  him  swiftly,  leaving  him  furious  with 
anger.  His  first  impulse  was  to  shake  his  fist  after  the 
retreating  figure,  but,  instead  of  that,  he  turned  a 
scowling  glance  full  of  hatred  toward  the  inn. 

Dr.  Brooks  was  just  coming  from  his  daily  call  upon 
his  patient,  and  witnessed  enough  of  the  interview  to 
be  able  to  make  a  shrewd  guess  as  to  the  meaning  of 
the  menacing  look  he  intercepted. 

"Where  have  I  seen  that  fellow?"  he  thought,  as  he 
turned  his  horse  toward  Squire  Gordon's. 

Presently  he  remembered  the  struggling  figure  at 
Gwennap  Pit  before  the  sermon. 

"That  fellow  certainly  means  mischief,"  he  said  to 
himself,  looking  back  to  where  Caleb  was  still  stand- 
ing, "I  wonder  what  can  be  back  of  it  all  besides 
religious  intolerance?" 

He  thought  of  talking  the  matter  over  with  Mr. 
Gordon,  but,  as  he  found  on  reaching  the  house  that 
he  was  absent,  he  contented  himself  with  giving  his 
customary  report  to  Carissa. 

He  noticed  with  a  little  surprise  how  eagerly  she 
received  it,  and  how  her  face  lighted  up  at  his  news, 

31 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 


but  he  immediately  remembered  those  characteristics 
that  had  so  often  won  his  unqualified  approval  in  the 
past  and  he  smiled  as  he  said  to  himself: 

"It's  her  way.  It  would  be  just  the  same  if  it  were 
old  Peter  Clifford  himself,  or  even  his  dog  Rover." 

During  these  days,  however,  there  had  been  in 
Carissa's  thoughts  an  element  entirely  new  in  her 
experience. 

The  scene  of  violence  that  she  had  witnessed  and  its 
accompanying  circumstances  had  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion upon  her  mind.  It  had  seemed  to  her  a  serious 
affair,  and  all  her  sympathies  had  been  strangely 
aroused  in  behalf  of  the  victim. 

The  slighting  comments  passed  in  her  hearing 
seemed  heartless  and  cruel.  There  was  nothing  in 
her  nature  that  could  sympathize  with  religious 
intolerance  or  hatred. 

Her  antecedents  and  the  character  of  her  early  train- 
ing determined  her  interpretation  of  the  situation.  In 
Carissa's  room  were  two  pictures:  one  of  her  mother, 
who  died  when  she  was  a  child,  but  whose  memory 
she  cherished  with  passionate  fondness;  it  was  faded 
and  dim,  but  the  face  looked  out  at  her  wistfully, 
sweetly  and  lovingly.  The  other  picture  was  of  her 
father,  whom  she  had  never  seen,  but  whom  she  had 
been  taught  to  look  upon  as  true,  unselfish,  and  noble 
in  every  deed  and  impulse.  Below  these  pictures  was 
suspended  a  small  case  of  books,  containing  a  double 
row  of  volumes,  forbidding  in  bulk  and  appearance, 
which  she  had  nevertheless  read  over  and  over,  and 
which  she  prized  because  they  had  belonged  to  her 
father. 

From  these  books,  historical,  theological,  and  many 

32 


BRAND'S     LODGINGS    CHANGED 


of  them  dealing  with  the  religious  controversies  of  the 
time,  she  had  formed  her  conceptions  of  the  world  of 
Faith,  and  her  own  standard  of  truth  and  duty. 

They  had  taught  her  to  idealize  the  great  religious 
leaders  of  the  past,  and  had  awakened  a  restless  hunger 
in  her  heart  to  be  identified  in  some  way  with  some 
great  and  noble  work,  that  should  be  altogether  differ- 
ent from  the  formal,  passionless  routine  of  the  con- 
ventional life  about  her. 

It  was  this  craving,  only  dimly  understood  by  her- 
self, that  inclined  her  to  think  often  and  with  real 
sympathy  of  the  young  stranger  who  had  been  assaulted 
in  her  presence. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  persuade  herself  that  this  man 
possessed  noble  characteristics.  It  was  true  that  he 
seemed  to  be  intensely  hated,  but  it  also  appeared 
that  antagonism  had  been  aroused  on  account  of  relig- 
ious convictions.  She  wondered  what  those  convic- 
tions could  be.  She  knew  that  men  in  every  age  had 
met  martyrdom  for  the  truth.  She  had  also  been 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  those  who  suffered  had 
usually  championed  the  higher,  purer,  nobler  cause. 
She,  somehow,  believed  it  to  be  so  in  this  case,  for  she 
remembered  his  face,  calm,  even  cool  and  scornful, 
stamped  with  the  sort  of  bravery  that  inspired  Arnold 
of  Brescia,  Savonarola,  Stephen,  and  Paul. 

She  was  not  satisfied  with  what  she  had  heard  of 
him.  She  felt  that  there  was  much  that  was  perhaps 
of  absorbing  interest  behind  the  fragmentary  informa- 
tion that  had  come  to  her  knowledge,  and  her  curiosity 
was  strongly  excited. 

She  was  but  a  girl,  her  mind  unformed  in  many  ways, 
and    herself  "undisciplined,"   as    Mrs.   Chamberlayne 

33 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

had  expressed  it;  but  she  had  the  true  woman's  nature 
that  sympathizes  with  unmerited  misfortune,  and  that 
quickly  assumes  partisanship  against  injustice. 

A  tremor  of  indignation  flashed  the  blood  into  her 
cheeks  when  Busby  entered  the  room  and  bluntly  said 
to  Mr.  Gordon:  "Dr.  Brooks  had  better  have  a  care 
of  that  precious  patient  of  his,  and  get  him  away  from 
here,  or  he'll  have  his  blood  on  his  hands." 

"Why?    What's  up?"  asked  Gordon. 

"The  whole  unwashed  rabble  from  Portreath  is  up, 
by  Gad;  some  fellow,  with  a  grudge  to  serve,  has 
stirred  'em  up.  Thomas  Batt  was  over  this  morning, 
as  sick  looking  as  a  chicken  with  the  pip,  and  begged 
me  to  interfere.  The  rascals  vow  that  this  young 
preacher  must  be  shipped  out  of  the  country  or  they'll 
ride  him  out  on  a  rail." 

There  was  the  lurking  suspicion  in  his  manner  of  a 
desire  to  chuckle,  as  he  made  this  announcement,  but, 
after  a  pause  and  a  glance  at  Carissa,  he  added  more 
gravely,  "Shouldn't  wonder  if  the  mob  would  be  over 
to-night.     Is  he  able  to  be  moved?" 

"Brooks  says  that  he  is  better,  quite  out  of  all  dan- 
ger, but  that  he  ought  to  be  kept  quiet  several  days," 
answered  Gordon. 

"Got  a  pretty  heavy  dose  of  it,  eh?" 

"It  was  one  of  the  most  brutal  things  I  ever  wit- 
nessed," responded  Gordon,  warmly.  "It  looked  for 
a  time  like  a  serious  concussion.  The  fellows  that  did 
it  should  have  been  arrested." 

"I  don't  suppose  he  has  any  friends  that  can  take 
him  away,"  said  Busby.  "Batt  says  there're  only  a  few 
of  his  faith — that's  what  he  called  it — in  this  region, 
and  they  are  poor  and  without  influence." 

34 


BRAND'S    LODGxNGS    CHANGED 

"Can't  you  bring  him  here  from  the  inn,  uncle?" 
Carissa  interposed,  with  a  tremor  in  her  voice.  "The 
mob  would  not  dare  attack  him,  if  he  were  your  guest." 

"I  wouldn't  do  it,"  said  Busby  quickly,  turning  to 
the  squire.  "I  don't  know  much  about  them,  but  those 
Mormons  have  a  bad  name,  I'm  told;  don't  take  him 
into  your  house,  I  pray." 

"Mr.  Busby,  that  is  cruel.  I  do  not  believe  what 
they  say,"  replied  Carissa,  with  some  warmth.  "He 
is  not  a  bad  man  no  matter  what  his  belief.  Did  you 
not  see  him  when  he  stood  there  and  let  them  strike? 
And  it  was  not  because  he  was  afraid.  I  saw  his 
face — "  She  turned  quickly  to  her  uncle,  and  said  in 
a  pleading  tone,  "It  would  be  terrible  if  they  should 
attack  him  now,  he  is  so  helpless  and  alone." 

Mr.  Gordon  hesitated;  finally,  however,  he  turned  to 
Busby,  and  said,  "I  really  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't. 
Brooks  says  that  he  seems  quite  a  gentlemanly  chap, 
and  it  will  only  be  for  a  few  days.  But  there's  alto- 
gether too  much  lawlessness  in  this  neighborhood,"  he 
continued,  squaring  himself  in  his  chair.  "When  a 
gentleman  has  to  take  a  tramp-preacher  into  his  own 
house  to  protect  him  from  violence,  it's  time  the  mag- 
istrates did  something." 

Mr.  Busby,  for  a  wonder,  made  no  reply.  He  was 
looking  at  Carissa  as  though  he  were  seeing  her  for 
the  first  time,  and  was  curiously  studying  her  flushed 
face  as  though  he  expected  to  find  the  answer  to  some 
perplexing  question  that  had  suddenly  arisen  in  his 
mind. 

That  evening  about  dusk,  old  Peter  Clifford  stood  in 
the  doorway  of  his  inn  and  ruefully  watched  the  car- 
riage that  was  slowly  conveying  his  interesting  guest 

35 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

to  new  quarters.  He  had  remonstrated  and  had 
curiously  inquired  the  reason  for  this  sudden  move, 
but  his  only  satisfaction  was  in  watching  the  receding 
carriage,  and  in  counting  over  again  the  handful  of 
silver  pieces  that  Squire  Gordon  had  put  into  his  hand. 


36 


CHAPTER  IV 

THOMAS  BATT'S  TESTIMONY 

Eaton  Brand  had  been  considerably  surprised  at  the 
call  he  received,  and,  still  more,  at  the  courteous 
invitation  to  spend  the  few  days  necessary  for  his  com- 
plete recovery  at  Mr.  Gordon's  house. 

"It  really  is  not  necessary!"  he  said.  Though  at 
the  same  time  expressing  his  appreciation  of  their 
kindness. 

"If  some  one  had  not  thought  it  necessary,  we 
shouldn't  have  been  here,"  interjected  Mr.  Busby, 
with  impatience. 

Brand  was  well  used  to  accommodating  himself  to 
any  circumstances,  and,  after  an  instant  of  further  hesi- 
tation, he  cordially  accepted  the  invitation. 

Carissa  caught  merely  a  glimpse  of  them  as  they 
entered  the  hall  and  proceeded  to  the  room  that  had 
been  assigned  to  Brand,  but  that  was  sufficient  to 
reawaken  all  her  feelings  of  sympathy. 

Brand  was  very  pale  and  appeared  to  be  much 
exhausted,  although  he  was  making  a  strong  effort  to 
walk  with  steady  steps;  his  lips  were  set  firmly 
together,  and  his  features  expressed  quiet  dignity  in 
spite  of  his  evident  suffering.  Across  the  right  temple 
was  a  discolored  line  extending  from  the  dark  hair  to 
the  eyebrow.  As  he  saw  Carissa  in  passing,  standing 
at  one  side  of  the  wide  hall  where  the  lamp-light  fell 
upon  her  upturned  face  and  searching  eyes,  he  evi- 
dently recalled  the  fact  that  he  had  seen  her  before, 

37 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

for  he  looked  again  quickly,  and  with  a  flash  and  a 
smile  as  of  recognition. 

Carissa  did  not  wait  for  her  uncle  and  Mr.  Busby  to 
descend.  She  had  done  all  that  she  could  do  to  insure 
the  comfort  and  quiet  of  their  guest,  and  now,  in  spite 
of  her  feeling  of  sympathetic  anxiety,  there  was  a 
strange  glow  of  happiness  in  her  heart.  She  did  not 
care  to  analyze  it,  but  she  felt  that  she  needed  space 
for  it  to  expand. 

The  cool  of  the  garden,  after  a  warm  day  and  after 
the  exciting  thoughts  called  forth  by  so  much  that  was 
unusual  in  her  life,  seemed  irresistibly  attractive.  She 
threw  on  a  light  wrap,  and  stepped  out  into  the  star- 
light. 

There  was  a  touch  of  pride  in  the  remembered  role 
she  had  played.  She  dimly  felt  that  Providence  had 
given  her  the  opportunity  of  enlisting  herself  on  the 
side  of  persecuted  right  against  aggressive  wrong  and 
injustice.  She  desired  to  play  this  part  out  to  the  end; 
she  felt  that  it  suited  her,  at  least  it  had  brought  a 
new,  a  delightful  sense  of  satisfaction  to  her  mind. 

Suddenly  she  remembered  the  words  of  Mr.  Busby. 
The  cowardly  ruf^ans,  who  would  not  hesitate  to  make 
an  attack  upon  a  sick  and  defenceless  man,  might 
come  to  the  inn  that  night.  It  was  improbable  that 
they  had  heard  of  his  removal.  A  daring  impulse 
came  to  her.  Clifford's  inn  was  not  far,  it  was  only 
about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  park  gates. 
If  they  should  come,  she  would  like  to  witness  their 
disappointment;  at  least,  the  trip  could  do  no  harm, 
and  she  was  in  the  mood  for  something  that  promised 
adventure. 

Without    further    thought,    she   lightly  crossed    the 

38 


THOMAS     BATT'S     TESTIMONY 

park,  and  hurried  along  the  ash-lined  lane  to  the  high- 
road. 

Down  the  road  she  sped,  fearless  of  discovery  or 
interruption,  until  she  knew  that  she  must  have 
covered  at  least  one-half  the  distance. 

At  the  point  where  an  old  road  branched  off  lead- 
ing to  the  gravel  pits,  she  paused  a  moment,  to 
refasten  a  loosened  tie  and  to  recover  her  breath. 

There  was  a  slight  salt  mist  in  the  air  borne  from  the 
sea.  The  silence  of  the  fields,  the  drift  of  the  wind, 
the  far  reaching,  trembling  light  of  the  stars  were  all 
pregnant  with  the  mystery  of  the  night,  in  which  her 
soul  delighted. 

Suddenly  she  stood  upright,  alert  and  listening,  with 
a  quick  touch  of  apprehension.  She  could  hear  foot- 
steps approaching  on  the  road  before  her,  as  of  a  man 
walking  rapidly.  The  next  instant  she  could  distin- 
guish his  form. 

"Hello,  what's  that,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  startled 
tone,  as  he  stopped  abruptly  at  sight  of  her. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  demanded,  in  a  clear,  firm 
voice. 

"Why,  it's  a  woman!"  she  heard  him  say  in  a  low 
tone  of  relief,  as  he  moved  a  step  or  two  in  her  direc- 
tion. "My  name  is  Thomas  Batt,"  he  added  in  reply 
to  her  challenge,  "and  if  you  live  anywhere  in  these 
parts  you  know  you've  nothing  to  fear." 

Her  apprehension  was  gone  immediately,  and  she 
laughed  softly  to  herself  as  he  approached. 

"I  am  Miss  Graham,  Mr.  Batt,"  she  finally 
announced.  "Do  you  wonder  what  I  am  doing  on  the 
road  at  such  an  hour?'* 

"Miss  Carissa!"  he  exclaimed  in  utter  astonishment. 

39 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"You  are  the  maddest  girl  in  St.  Day!  What  are  you 
doing  here,  frightening  an  old  man  out  of  his  wits  with 
the  idea  that  he  was  seeing  a  ghost?" 

"I  was  going  down  to  the  inn,"  she  replied,  sud- 
denly sobered  at  the  thought  of  her  errand. 

"Going  to  the  inn!"  he  repeated.  "I've  just  come 
from  there,  and  was  going  to  your  uncle's  to  thank 
him  for  giving  shelter  to  Mr.  Brand." 

"You  know  him  and  are  his  friend?"  she  exclaimed, 
remembering  that  it  was  he  who  had  warned  Mr. 
Busby  and  finding  the  current  of  her  thoughts  sud- 
denly changed. 

"I  was  baptized  by  him  four  weeks  ago  come  Sun- 
day," he  replied,  looking  at  her  with  a  new  interest. 
"But  what  was  your  errand  at  the  inn?  I  will  go  back 
with  you." 

"Are  they  coming,  the  cowards  that  you  told  Mr. 
Busby  about?"  she  asked,  scarcely  knowing  how  to 
explain  her  intentions. 

"No,  and  you  may  well  call  them  cowards!"  he 
answered.  "They've  got  wind  of  his  going,  besides 
I've  lodged  complaint  against  them  to  restrain  them 
to  keep  the  peace." 

"I'll  go  back  to  the  house  with  you,"  said  Carissa 
quietly,  turning  about  and  beginning  to  retrace  her 
steps  by  his  side.  "But  tell  me,"  she  urged  after  a 
moment  of  thought,  "why  do  they  hate  him  so?" 

"Why  is  any  man  that  tells  the  truth  and  shames  the 
devil,  hated  in  this  world?"  answered  the  sturdy 
Welshman  bitterly. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  how  I  came  to  believe  and  to  be 
baptized?"  he  asked  after  a  little  reflection.  "Or 
wouldn't  the  story  interest  you?" 

40 


THOMAS      BATTS     TESTIMONY 

"Indeed  it  would  interest  me,"  she  answered,  slip- 
ping her  hand  into  the  folds  of  his  rough  coat-sleeve, 
to  assure  him  of  her  attention. 

"I've  always  been  a  searcher  after  truth,  you  know 
that,  Miss  Carissa,"  he  began.  "I  have  told  you  in 
the  past  some  of  the  thoughts  that  have  come  to  me, 
and  I  knew  by  the  light  that  used  to  shine  upon  your 
eager  little  face  from  the  old  furnace  door,  that  you 
understood  me,  small  though  you  were." 

He  paused  and  looked  down  at  her  as  though  to  note 
how  she  had  grown  since  then.  If  she  could  have 
seen  his  face  distinctly,  she  might  have  noticed  the 
mist  that  had  gathered  in  his  eyes  at  the  recollection. 

"But  I  didn't  understand  myself,  after  all,"  he 
resumed  with  a  sigh.  "You  know  I  joined  the  Wes- 
leyans  years  ago;  then  when  Billy  Bray  came  along 
and  preached  with  such  a  beautiful  simplicity  and 
show  of  clear  mother-wit  on  his  rough  Cornish  tongue, 
I  joined  the  Bryanites.  But  I  kept  a-thinking  and  a- 
thinking — a  man  must  think,  I  suppose,  or  the 
Almighty  would  ha'  made  him  without  the  appa- 
ratus— and  there  was  always  something  lacking,  some- 
thing that  just  eluded  the  grip  of  my  understanding." 

He  paused  again  and  his  mind  appeared  to  be 
wandering  amid  the  old  intricate  questions  and 
speculations. 

"But  that  is  all  changed  now,"  he  said,  with  an  air 
of  assurance.  "When  I  met  Mr.  Brand,  at  Redruth, 
he  brought  letters  from  my  brothers  and  sisters  from 
the  old  home  in  Wales.  They  had  all  been  re-baptized 
and  were  going  to  join  the  gathering  of  the  Saints  in 
the  New  World.  They  wrote  for  me  to  go  and  hear 
him  preach.     I  went;  the  old  doubts  and  questionings 

41 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

are  gone;  they  disappeared  like  the  mist  and  the  fog 
before  the  coming  of  the  sun.  Miss  Carissa,  a  new 
light  has  dawned  on  my  understanding;  formerly  I 
was  as  a  blind  man  following  blind  leaders,  but  the 
rest  of  my  days,  please  God,  shall  be  spent  in  making 
known  the  truth." 

Carissa  was  thrilled  by  her  old  friend's  earnestness. 
True,  she  did  not  understand  the  nature  of  the  change 
he  tried  to  describe,  but  she  believed  in  his  sincerity 
as  she  believed  in  her  own. 

Then,  too,  she  gladly  received  his  testimony,  for  it 
fitted  perfectly  into  her  previously  formed  impressions 
and  confirmed  them. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  told  me  these  things,"  she  said 
simply,  as  they  turned  into  the  gate  of  her  uncle's  place. 

"You're  a  grown  woman,  now,"  he  said  a  little  wist- 
fully. "The  old  days,  when  I  used  to  talk  so  freely, 
and  you  used  to  listen  so  eagerly,  are  gone  never  to 
return.  Perhaps  though,  you'll  let  me  put  it  all 
before  you  some  day.  I  mean  the  new  light  that's 
come  to  me;  or  better  yet,"  his  face  brightened  at  the 
thought,  "perhaps  you'll  let /^z-'/^  return  your  kindness 
in  giving  him  a  shelter  when  he  needed  it,  by  telling 
you  himself  of  the  gospel  he  preaches.  ' 

They  were  approaching  the  door,  and  he  bent  for- 
ward a  little  that  he  might  better  read  the  expression 
of  her  face.  She  removed  her  hand  from  his  arm  and 
looked  away  from  him,  and  he  drew  a  sigh  of  disap- 
pointment. 

"He  will  not  be  here  long,  though,"  he  concluded; 
"while  I  shall  stay  and  work  among  my  old  mates — 
even  if  they  do  say  I'm  a  traitor  and  a  turncoat,  and 
shut  the  doors  of  their  houses  upon  me." 

42 


THOMAS      BATT'S     TESTIMONY 

There  was  a  light  burning  in  the  squire's  study,  and 
Carissa  knew  that  Mr.  Busby  had  gone.  Tapping 
lightly  upon  the  door  and  opening  it  to  introduce  her 
old  friend,  she  said  good-night,  and  sought  her  own 
room,  glad  to  be  alone  with  the  new  thoughts  and 
impressions  that  had  come  to  her. 


43 


CHAPTER  V 

MR.   BRAND    DECLARES  HIS   MISSION 

Mrs.  Chamberlayne  was,  very  properly,  shocked 
when  she  heard  that  Squire  Gordon  had  received  this 
strange  preacher,  from  no  one  knew  where,  as  a  guest 
in  his  house. 

"It's  just  like  his  folly,"  she  declared  emphatically. 
"He's  no  more  fit  to  bring  up  a  girl  properly  and  to 
furnish  her  with  associates  than, — "  she  paused  for  a 
suitable  comparison  before  she  concluded  trium- 
phantly, "than  Mr.  Busby  himself.  Just  to  think  of 
it!  She  knows  no  more  of  the  world  or  of  the  proper 
distinctions  in  society  than  a  baby— and  now  Arthur 
Gordon's  gone  and  brought  this  handsome,  clever- 
speaking  preacher  into  his  house,  where  she  can't  help 
but  see  him  and  listen  to  him  every  day  for  goodness 
knows  how  long.  It's  perfectly  scandalous,  and  you 
may  be  downright  sure  no  good  will  come  of  it." 

In  spite  of  this  good  lady's  expression  of  dark  mis- 
giving, however,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  any  imme- 
diate change,  at  least  of  very  great  moment,  upon  the 
surface  of  the  life  at  Squire  Gordon's. 

Gordon  came  and  went  much  as  usual.  Busby  did 
not  make  his  appearance  for  several  days,  but  it  was 
understood  that  he  was  confined  to  his  chair  by  a 
severe  attack  of  his  old  enemy,  the  gout.  At  first  Dr. 
Brooks  came  regularly  every  day,  but  in  a  short 
time  his  visits  were  made  less  frequently. 

As  for  Carissa,  it  maybe  that  Dr.  Brooks  sometimes 

44 


MR.    BRAXD    DECLARES    HIS   MISSION 


imagined  she  was  becoming  more  serious  and  less 
talkative,  but  Mr.  Gordon  observed  no  change  in  her 
at  all.  True,  the  thought  came  to  him  once  or  twice, 
as  he  saw  the  deep  light  in  her  eyes  and  the  wonderful 
play  of  emotion  upon  her  expressive  face,  that  she 
was  maturing  rapidly,  and  would  certainly  develop  as 
great  beauty  some  day  as  had  characterized  her  mother; 
but  he  did  not  connect  this  observation  of  his  with  any 
awakened  susceptibility  on  her  part,  to  the  presence 
of  their  interesting  guest.  Such  an  idea  would  have 
found  great  difficulty  in  forcing  an  entrance  into  his 
mind. 

He  was  very  proud  of  his  niece  and  had  never 
doubted  that  she  would  grow  to  womanhood  a  credit 
to  all  the  traditions  of  his  family. 

He  had  been  somewhat  disappointed  that  she  had 
taken  no  more  interest  in  the  glimpse  of  London  life 
he  had  afforded  her.  She  had  seemed  to  be  a  mere 
interested  spectator  of  all  the  scenes  of  gaiety  to 
which  he  had  introduced  her,  although  she  was  not 
wanting  in  a  certain  zest  and  enjoyment  while  playing 
the  role.  But  he  had  charged  her  failure  to  inexpe- 
rience, and  on  his  return,  had  promised  himself  that 
she  should  see  more  of  the  society  to  which  she 
rightly  belonged.  Now,  as  often  as  he  observed  how 
rapidly  her  womanly  charms  were  ripening,  and  how 
fit  she  was  becoming  to  take  her  place  anywhere  with 
credit  as  his  niece,  and  as  the  feminine  representative 
of  the  family,  that  promise  was  recalled  to  him. 

Brand  had  begun,  little  by  little,  as  his  returning 
strength  permitted,  to  mingle  in  the  life  of  the  place, 
and  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  the  charm  that  he 

found  in  it. 

45 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


He  was  surprised  and  delighted  to  discover  almost 
immediately,  that  this  beautiful  girl,  whose  face  had 
attracted  him  from  the  first,  was  inclined  to  listen  to 
the  story  of  his  mission. 

His  host  was  not  so  responsive,  although  he  listened 
courteously,  and  often  surprised  him  with  a  shrewd 
rejoinder  that  taxed  his  ability  as  a  controversialist. 

"I  have  found  this  region  full  of  unusual  interest," 
said  Brand  one  morning,  glancing  appreciatively  at 
Carissa's  bright  face,  but  speaking  to  Mr.  Gordon. 

"It  is  true  the  people  have  not  received  me  as  read- 
ily here  as  in  some  places,  but  men  who  mingle  with 
their  fellows  on  such  a  mission  as  mine  cannot  always 
count  on  a  courteous  reception." 

There  was  no  bitterness  in  his  tone  as  he  made  this 
explanation.  It  was  simply  the  statement  of  a  fact. 
Perhaps  it  contained  a  subtle  appeal  to  the  sympathy 
that  seemed  so  ready. 

"What  is  your  mission?"  asked  Carissa,  thinking  of 
the  testimony  of  Thomas  Batt,  and  impulsively  yield- 
ing to  her  desire  to  know  something  definite. 

"My  mission  is  to  proclaim  the  truth  of  primitive 
Christianity,"  he  answered  with  a  grave  smile.  "Does 
it  seem  strange  to  you  that  this  should  be  unwelcome 
in  a  land  dotted  with  churches  and  chapels  and  swarm- 
ing with  clergymen  and  preachers?  And  yet  in  so- 
called  Christian  England  and  America  we  have 
encountered  incredible  opposition  and  sometimes  even 
a  hearing  has  been  denied  us." 

Gordon  looked  at  his  guest  with  an  air  of  superior 
understanding. 

"My  dear  sir,  that  is  the  claim  advanced  by  every 
new  Christian  sect  for  centuries  past.     There's  always 

46 


MR.    BRAND    DECLARES    HIS    MISSION 


something  new  in  the  matter  of  religion,"  he  added, 
resignedly.  "I  suppose  it's  due  to  the  growing  rest- 
lessness of  the  world.  It's  hardly  worth  while  to 
oppose  a  new  faith.  Like  other  fashions,  it  will  soon 
be  set  aside." 

He  spoke  in  a  tone  of  opposition  which  was  merely 
an  expression  of  inbred  conservatism.  But  Carissa 
observed  the  effect  upon  Brand's  face  and  was  inter- 
ested. 

"But,  underneath  this  restlessness  and  change,  there 
is  deep  hunger  for  what  is  genuine,  is  there  not?"  she 
asked  in  a  tone  of  serious  inquiry.  "Surely  there 
must  be  something  besides  fashion  in  religion  or  our 
deepest  needs  can  never  be  satisfied!" 

Mr.  Gordon  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "Tut,  tut, 
child,"  he  said,  in  light  rebuke.  "What  do  you  know 
about  this?  Of  course,  that  is  genuine  which  is  his- 
toric and  established  and  has  stood  the  test  of  time. 
It's  only  what  is  new  and  strange  that  is  of  the  nature 
of  mere  fashion." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Brand,  courteously,  "faith  has 
succeeded  faith  through  all  these  centuries;  that  is 
true,  but  each  new  form  has  proved  its  inability  to 
meet  the  needs  of  men  and  to  bring  the  world 
into  touch  with  God.  The  growing  restlessness  that 
you  speak  of,  is  abundant  evidence  of  this  fact.  It  is 
part  of  our  belief  that  the  old  church  became  hope- 
lessly corrupt, because  it  forsook  the  truth  centuries  ago. 
The  reformers  of  each  age  have  failed  because  they 
did  not  go  back  far  enough.  They  sought  to  graft  a 
new  shoot  on  a  rotten  tree.  The  only  way  of  restora- 
tion was  by  a  new  creation.  Does  it  seem  unreason- 
able to  you  that  in  the  fullness  of  time  of  prophecy, 

47 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 


such   a  church  should   be   re-established   by  the  per- 
sonal authority  of  Christ  Himself?" 

Brand  had  begun  by  addressing  Mr.  Gordon,  but 
the  look  of  inquiry  and  understanding  in  Carissa's 
eyes  had  proved  the  stronger  magnet.  His  thought 
was  not  interrupted  but  stimulated  by  his  deliberate 
admiration.  Her  face  mirrored  every  transition  of 
feeling.  He  felt  that  his  mission,  the  object  of  con- 
tempt to  so  many,  was  clothed  with  new  dignity  by 
her  attitude. 

She  was  too  much  absorbed  to  experience  any 
troublesome  self-consciousness  that  would  cause  her 
to  drop  her  eyes  before  him,  and  when  he  ceased  she 
answered  with  a  touch  of  sadness. 

"Since  I  have  read  in  my  father's  books  of  how 
deeply  men  thought  in  the  past  and  how  intense  were 
their  spiritual  struggles,  all  that  I  have  known  of 
religious  service  has  seemed  stately  and  beautiful,  but 
so  elusive  and  shadowy.  Sometimes  I  have  wondered 
where  I  should  go  if  a  real  need  should  overtake  me." 
"My  child,  what  are  you  saying?"  said  Gordon, 
impatiently.  "There  is  too  much  hysterics  in  some 
men's  religion."  And  then  seeing  the  quick  mist 
gathering  in  her  eyes,  he  added  more  considerately, 
"A  well  ordered  life  has  its  own  compensations,  and 
you  will  find  your  father's  religion  quite  sufficient  if 
you  ever  need  it." 

"Was  your  father  a  clergyman  and  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church?"   Brand  asked. 

"Yes.  He  was  a  chaplain  in  the  army.  I  do  not 
remember  him,  but  he  has  recorded  many  of  his  own 
perplexities  upon  the  margins  of  his  books,  which  I 
have  read  and  cherished,"  she  answered  wistfully. 

48 


MR.    BRAND    DECLARES    HIS  MISSION 

"Good  men  of  every  age,  who  have  thought  deeply 
and  inquired  diligently  for  the  truth,  have  been  per- 
plexed by  the  inconsistencies  they  have  met," 
responded  Brand,  gently.  "If  the  way  to  truth  had 
been  by  research,  if  the  light  of  knowledge  were  given 
as  the  reward  of  faithfulness  in  the  old  paths,  or  of 
enterprise  in  marking  out  new  ones,  the  world  would 
not  have  remained  in  the  darkness  of  error  and  uncer- 
tainty. No!  God  has  reserved  the  light  until  these 
days,  when,  according  to  His  gracious  purpose,  He  has 
made  it  known  in  a  new  and  glorious  dispensation." 

Gordon  was  not  especially  pleased  with  the  turn 
of  the  conversation.  He  might  have  been  seriously 
disturbed  if  he  had  carefully  noted  its  effect  upon 
Carissa.  He  had  known  little  or  nothing  about  her 
reading  or  the  real  character  of  her  inner  life.  He  had 
never  looked  into  the  books  she  prized  so  highly,  nor 
speculated  concerning  their  contents  or  the  influence 
they  might  exert.  He  had  been  content  to  see  her 
growing  to  womanhood  in  what  he  considered  a  per- 
fectly normal  manner,  cultivating  acquaintance  with 
the  life  of  the  neighborhood,  carefree  and  happy,  with, 
of  course,  a  proper  reverence  for  all  respectable  ordi- 
nances of  religion,  and  observing  the  proprieties  of  her 
station  in  life.  It  would  have  seemed  a  misfortune  to 
him  and  incredible  that  she  should  form  strong  schis- 
matic religious  opinions.  He  was  now  somewhat  sur- 
prised that  the  subject  should  interest  her,  and,  still 
more,  to  hear  her  confession  that  she  had  thought  for 
herself  on  these  matters  and  was  inclined  to  shape 
her  own  conclusions. 

"I  can  understand  the  spirit  that  is  unsatisfied  with 
conventional    religious   services  and  a  passive   life," 

49 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

continued  Brand,  after  a  moment  of  thought.  "Life 
is  too  precious  a  thing  to  be  wasted  upon  trivialities. 
There  is  a  vast  hunger  in  the  world  that  is  clamoring 
for  satisfaction.  The  instincts  of  humanity  must  be 
met;  and,  for  the  one  who  sees  these  things,  it  would  be 
cowardly  and  selfish  to  sit  back  with  folded  hands  in 
the  enjoyment  of  ease  and  luxury.  Our  mission  is  to 
arouse  the  selfish,  to  awaken  the  blind  to  an  open 
vision  of  the  world's  need  and  to  offer,  to  every  aspir- 
ing soul,  that  satisfying  service  in  the  world  which  the 
spirit  of  the  Most  High  has  made  ready  for  him  in 
these  last  days." 

Carissa  could  almost  believe  that  the  speaker  read 
her  thought  and  interpreted  her  deepest  wishes.  She 
was  in  perfect  harmony  with  him  in  all  that  he  said. 

"And  yet  the  world  is  so  slow  to  hear!"  he  con- 
tinued, "so  dull  and  sluggish  to  understand!  Men 
despise  the  truth  that  would  lift  them  from  the  sordid- 
ness  of  their  lives.  They  spurn  the  hand  that  would 
lead  them  from  penury  and  filth  to  a  clean,  wholesome, 
happy  life  in  the  land  God  has  given  for  an  inher- 
itance." 

"Is  it  not  because  they  do  not  understand?"  said 
Carissa,  obeying  the  impulse  to  speak  a  sympathetic 
word.  "It  takes  time  and  strength  to  shake  off 
inherited  prejudice." 

"That  is  true,"  he  said,  looking  up  with  a  sudden 
expression  of  conscious  fellowship.  "Our  great 
prophet,  to  whom  God  committed  the  keys  of  the  new 
and  everlasting  covenant,  predicted  the  difficulties  as 
well  as  the  ultimate  triumph  that  were  before  the 
chosen  people.  In  vision  he  beheld  the  literal  fulfill- 
ment of  the  promise  of  the  coming  of  all  nations  to 

50 


MR.    BRAND    DECLARES    HIS    MISSION 


the  mountain  of  the  Lord's  house  that  should  be 
established  in  the  tops  of  the  mountains;  and  this 
vision  shall  never  fail." 

"Who  is  this  prophet  that  you  speak  of  so  rever- 
ently?" asked  Carissa. 

"His  mantle  has  fallen  upon  another,"  he  answered. 
"He  met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  an  angry  mob;  but 
he  was  not  called  to  martyrdom  until  he  had  re-estab- 
lished the  church  upon  a  sure  foundation.  He  was 
but  a  mere  boy  when  the  truth  came  to  him.  You 
might  consider  the  story  of  his  life  in  the  light  of  the 
most  unreal  romance,  but — "  he  paused,  and  a  look 
of  awe  as  at  the  remembrance  of  something  sacred, 
came  into  his  face, — "I  have  had  witness  of  its  truth." 

She  did  not  ask  what  that  witness  was,  but  she  felt 
that  it  had  been  conclusive,  at  least  to  him.  Indeed,  she 
had  no  chance  to  ask,  for  Mr.  Gordon  here  interposed. 

"Come,  Mr.  Brand,"  he  said,  breaking  in  upon  the 
silence  and  his  guest's  abstraction.  "If  we  are  to  take 
a  look  about  the  place  before  luncheon  we  must  lose 
no  time." 

Carissa  remained  where  they  left  her,  her  mind 
busy  in  reconstructing  all  the  impressions  of  the  last 
few  days.  She  had  been  convinced  of  Brand's  absolute 
sincerity,  and  that  he  believed  his  cause  worth  battling 
for.  He  had  not  attempted  to  entertain  her  with 
small  talk;  from  the  first  he  had  spoken  of  his  work 
boldly,  convincingly,  and  with  proud  loyalty.  Some- 
times he  almost  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her — so 
absorbed  had  he  been  in  setting  forth  the  truth  that 
he  held.  Long  after  he  had  left  her  she  continued  to 
feel  the  force  of  his  personality,  and  to  let  her  mind 
follow  along  the  lines  of  thought  he  had  opened. 

51 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  COURSE  OF  EVENTS 

It  did  not  take  long  for  Mr.  Brand  to  find  a  strong 
personal  interest  creeping  into  his  relations  with 
Carissa. 

As  Mrs.  Chamberlayne  had  predicted,  they  found 
abundant  opportunity  for  conversation,  and  he  usually 
turned  it  with  great  skill  to  the  hopes  and  the  plans 
of  his  people.  Brand  was  sincerely  devoted  to  his 
work,  and,  with  his  temperament  and  ideals,  was  not 
likely  to  neglect  an  opportunity  of  making  a  convert, 
wherever  possible,  to  his  system  of  belief. 

At  first,  his  conversation  with  Carissa  was  shaped 
by  his  training  as  a  controversial  preacher,  but  later 
he  began,  skillfully  and  almost  unconsciously,  to 
adapt  himself  to  her  thought  and  to  play  upon  her 
sensibilities  with  the  art  of  a  master. 

He  was  a  man  of  eager  passions,  and  had  been 
strongly  attracted  to  her  from  the  first  interview. 
Later,  he  studied  the  charm  of  her  manner,  and  was 
both  flattered  and  inspired  by  her  close  attention. 

His  mission  to  England  had  lasted  several  years, 
and  was  about  to  terminate.  He  was  looking  forward 
to  active  participation  in  the  ambitious  plans  of  his 
people,  and  knew  that  he  would  be  expected,  in  per- 
formance of  one  of  his  first  duties,  to  create  a  house- 
hold of  his  own. 

During  his  missionary  travels,  his  fancy  had  been 
occasionally  aroused.     But  his  stay  in  any  one  place 

52 


THE      COURSE       OF       EVENTS 


had  been  brief,  and  his  exacting  duties  had  been  such 
as  to  leave  him  little  room  to  consult  his  inclination. 
Squire  Gordon  was  serenely  unconscious  of  any 
possibility  of  danger  to  his  niece  that  might  be  lurk- 
ing in  the  long  interviews  that  she  held  with  their 
guest.  He  had  received  Brand  generously,  had  treated 
him  courteously,  and  had  begun  to  like  him,  though 
usually  bored  by  the  style  of  his  conversation.  He 
joined  them  occasionally,  however,  and  admitted 
that  "when  he  was  off  his  hobby,"  as  he  expressed  it, 
he  could  be  quite  a  companionable  and  agreeable 
fellow.  He  recognized  this  man's  ability  as  a  clever 
talker,  and  thought  he  would  make  a  good  election 
agent  to  bring  voters  to  the  polls.  He  felt,  in  a  meas- 
ure, the  magnetic  force  of  his  strong  personality,  but 
could  not  understand  how  his  remarkable  religious 
theories  could  make  any  lasting  impression  upon  a 
well-balanced  mind,  and  it  certainly  would  have 
seemed  to  him  unreasonable  that  Carissa  was  likely  to 
be  seriously  influenced  by  this  chance  visitor,  on  so 
brief  an  acquaintance. 

It  was,  nevertheless,  true  that  her  interest  was  grow- 
ing steadily  day  by  day,  and,  as  she  entered  more  fully 
into  the  life  that  he  had  lived  and  into  the  plans  for 
the  future  that  he  laid  before  her,  her  own  past 
seemed  barren  and  empty,  and  her  own  future,  as  it 
appeared  mapped  out  before  her,  seemed  strangely 
uninviting  and  fruitless. 

Matters  had  thus  been  progressing  for  nearly  a 
week,  and  Brand  had  fully  recovered  his  strength, 
though  he  still  lingered  on  as  a  guest  in  this  hospitable 
home,  when  Dr.  Brooks  found  Carissa  snugly  ensconced 
in  a  favorite  nook  at  one   corner  of  the  tennis  ground. 

53 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

To  his  partial  eyes,  no  more  attractive  picture  could 
be  imagined  than  she  presented;  a  dainty  figure,  seated 
comfortably  upon  a  rustic  seat,  in  the  shade  of  an 
arbor,  and  deeply  absorbed  in  an  old  well-worn  pam- 
phlet which  she  held  in   her  hands. 

He  somehow  felt  a  vague  sense  of  relief  at  finding 
her  alone.  The  day  before,  he  had  discovered  Brand 
at  her  side  in  this  same  spot,  and  talking  earnestly; 
as  a  result  he  had  carried  away  a  disagreeable  impres- 
sion, which  had  troubled  him  most  unreasonably  ever 
since,  and  which  had  led  him  to  drive  around  that  way 
again  as  soon  as  his  morning  calls  were  made. 

"What  have  you  there,  Carissa,  that's  so  interest- 
ing?" he  called  gaily,  as  she  failed  to  look  up  at  his 
approach. 

As  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  he  saw  that  they  were 
moist  with  unshed  tears. 

*Tt  is  the  story  of  his  people  that  Mr.  Brand  has 
given  me  to  read,"  she  answered,  turning  the  title 
page  toward  him. 

The  uneasy  impression  which  he  had  carried  over- 
night, and  which  had  been  banished  for  a  moment, 
returned  more  strongly  than  ever  at  the  veiled  con- 
fession of  her  words  and  manner. 

"Let  me  see  it,"  he  said,  reaching  out  his  hand  to 
take  it. 

Something  in  his  tone  induced  her  to  parley  with 
him. 

"Will  you  give  it  back?"  she  asked,  withdrawing  it 
from  his  reach,  and  challenging  him  with  pretty 
defiance.      "I  haven't  finished  it  yet." 

"Oh  yes,  I  suppose  you'll  have  your  own  way,"  he 
declared,  covering  his  real   impatience  with  a  tone  of 

54 


THE      COURSE      OF       E\^ENTS 

raillery  that  was   familiar   to  her.     "You  have   been 
wretchedly  spoiled,  Carissa." 

"By  whom,  pray  tell?" 

"By  all  of  us — but  let  me  see  that  paper.  Come, 
I'll  give  it  back." 

"Honor  bright?" 

"Yes,  honor  bright." 

It  was  entitled,  "The  Mormons,  A  Discourse 
Delivered  before  the  Historical  Society  of  Penn- 
sylvania, March  26,  1850,  by  Colonel  Thomas  L. 
Kane." 

As  he  turned  the  pages  he  found  that  it  was  a  thrill- 
ing and  pathetic  portrayal  of  the  sorrows  and  wrongs 
of  a  persecuted  people;  driven  from  their  homes, 
wandering  in  the  wilderness,  sustained  by  their  faith 
in  the  promises  of  God,  and  unified  by  the  courage 
and  zeal  of  self-sacrificing  leaders. 

The  story  opened  with  a  traveler's  description  of 
his  visit  to  the  deserted  temple-city  of  the  Mormons, 
soon  after  their  expulsion  and  exile  at  the  hands  of  a 
brutal  mob.  It  pictured  the  distress,  homesickness 
and  bewilderment  of  this  exiled  people,  and  followed 
them  onward,  over  plains  and  mountains,  through 
hardships  and  privations,  in  the  face  of  incredible 
obstacles,  till  they  finally  entered  the  land  God  had 
promised  them  as  an  inheritance.  It  represented 
them  as  a  God-fearing,  truth-loving,  devoted  people, 
against  whom  the  whole  world  was  arrayed  in  jealous 
hatred  and  active  hostility. 

As   he  finally  closed  the  book  he  saw  that  Carissa 
was  scanning  his  face  eagerly. 

"A   very   thrilling    romance,    I    should    judge,"    he 
commented,  dryly,  as  he  handed  it  back  to  her.    "But" 

55 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

—  considerable  indignation  crept  into  his  tone  as  he 
thought  of  Brand,  and  speculated  on  his  purpose, — 
"if  it  should  be  put  forth  as  a  serious  contribution  to 
the  history  of  our  day,  it  could  have  only  a  mischiev- 
ous tendency." 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  she  asked  in  a  hurt  tone, 
while  a  spot  of  red  crept  into  her  cheek. 

"Because  it  would  be  rank  poison,"  he  asserted, 
vigorously;  then,  controlling  himself  with  an  effort, 
he  continued,  with  deliberate  emphasis,  "You  must 
learn,  my  dear,  that  the  worst  kind  of  a  lie  is  the  kind 
that  cloaks  an  evil  with  a  false  appeal  to  sympathy  or 
puts  a  glamour  upon  ugly  things." 

"But  what  makes  you  think  this  does  that?"  she 
persisted. 

"Carissa,  listen  to  me — I  don't  know  what  purpose 
this  man  has  in  putting  that  thing  into  your  hands. 
But,  remember,  we  are  not  living  in  the  dark  ages, 
and  wherever  you  find  a  man  or  a  cause  hated  and  dis- 
trusted by  a  large  number  of  people,  you  may  be  very 
sure  there  is  some  good  reason  at  the  back  of  it." 

"You  are  cruelly  unjust,"  she  exclaimed,  in  an 
injured  tone  and  yet  with  a  lingering  appeal  in  her 
face  and  manner.  "You  told  me  you  knew  nothing 
about  these  people,  and  yet  you  condemn  them  on 
the  ground  of  mere  generalities  and  in  the  face  of 
this  testimony  in  their  behalf." 

He  was  surprised  and  distressed  at  her  attitude,  and 
felt  that  perhaps  he  had  gone  too  far  in  view  of  the 
little  he  could  urge  to  substantiate  his  position.  He 
could  not  recede  from  it,  however. 

"Come,  my  dear,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  remonstrance, 
"We  are  not  going  to    quarrel,   are  we,   for  the  first 

56 


THE      COURSE      OF       EVExNTS 

time  in  our  lives  too,  and  over  a  pathetic  little  story, 
written  by  some  unknown  sentimentalist,  and  that  has 
somehow  happened  to  take  your  fancy?" 

The  answer  that  he  received  dismayed  him  more 
than  anything  which  had  gone  before;  for  her  self- 
control  suddenly  gave  way,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"Bless  me,"  he  exclaimed,  shocked  and  grieved, 
and  with  a  troubled  sense  of  self-reproach,  "What  have 
I  done?" 

He  sat  down  beside  her  and  drew  her  hands  from 
her  face. 

"Forgive  me,  "he  said,  capitulating  immediately  and 
without  thought  of  the  terms.  "Fm  a  bluff,  teasing 
old  donkey,  and  not  worthy  of  your  confidence " 

"No,  no!"  she  protested,  ashamed  of  her  weakness 
and  struggling  against  it — "Don't  say  that!" 

"What  is  it  then?"  he  asked,  turning  her  face  gently 
toward  him. 

He  was  startled  when  he  saw,  behind  her  tears,  the 
light  of  an  intense  earnestness  shining  in  her  eyes  as 
she  said,  falteringly: 

"It  seems  so  terrible  that  everyone  should  be 
against  him." 

When  Dr.  Brooks  had  succeeded  in  making  his  peace, 
and  left  her,  he  went  directly  to  Mr.  Gordon. 

"Well,  what  do  you  make  of  him,  by  this  time?"  he 
asked. 

"Whom  do  you  mean.  Brand?" 

"Yes;  he  has  been  here  for  some  time  now,  and  is 
as  strong  and  well  as  he  ever  was." 

"Why,  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pleasant  sort  of  a 
fellow,"  Gordon  answered  easily.  "I  have  persuaded 
him  to  stay  a  few  days  longer." 

57 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"The  deuce  you  have!"  the  doctor  ejaculated,  forci- 
bly. "See  here,  Squire,  that  girl  of  ours, — I  am  sure 
you  will  admit  that  I  am  as  fond  of  her  as  you  are, — 
has  conceived  a  most  unaccountable  interest  both  in 
him  and  'his  cause,'  as  she  calls  it." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Gordon,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

Brooks  described  the  scene  that  had  just  occurred, 
and  gave  his  own  interpretation  of  it. 

"Hang  it,  man!  You  are  mistaken!"  said  Gordon, 
when  he  had  finished,  "the  thing  is  impossible." 

"I  trust  you  are  right,"  said  the  doctor,  after  a  short 
silence,  "but  I  rather  doubt  it.  You  will,  I  hope,  send 
him  away  as  soon  as  possible,  and  in  the  meanwhile 
don't  trust  her  with  him!  We  know  nothing  about 
him,  you  know." 

"It's  utterly  impossible,"  Gordon  repeated  to 
himself,  after  his  friend's  departure.  "But  it  will  be 
well  to  be  watchful,  nevertheless." 

He  suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  consented  to 
drive  his  guest  and  Carissa  over  to  Portreath,  where 
Brand  had  an  engagement  to  preach  on  the  following 
night. 

"She  did  urge  the  matter  rather  strongly,"  he 
reflected.  "And  she's  talked  with  him  by  the  hour. 
But  Brooks  is  certainly  wrong.  It  cannot  be  possible 
that  she  should  become  interested  in  such  a  man  as  he 
is — or  in  the  absurd  theories  he  is  constantly  airing." 
He  repeated  these  assurances  to  himself  as  often  as 
the  question  returned,  but  in  spite  of  this  fact  he  was 
evidently  much  more  disturbed  than  he  cared  to 
admit. 

On  leaving  Squire  Gordon's,   Dr.  Brooks  suddenly 

58 


THE      COURSE      OF       E  \^  E  X  T  S 

recalled  the  scene  he  had  witnessed  in  front  of  Clif- 
ford's Inn. 

"Perhaps  something  can  be  made  of  that!"  he  said 
to  himself,  and  turning  his  horse  down  the  St.  Day 
road,  he  drove  rapidly  and  without  stopping  past  the 
inn  and  the  old  town,  until  he  came  to  a  group  of 
cottages  not  far  from  Vogue  Hill  cuttings,  which 
were  occupied  exclusively  by  miners'  families.  He 
halted  at  one  of  these  and,  without  leaving  his  trap, 
called  through  the  open  door. 

Immediately  a  young  woman  stepped  to  the  door- 
way. 

"Come  here  a  moment,  Mary,  I  want  to  speak  to 
you." 

Although  the  day  was  warm  she  caught  up  a 
shawl,  and  throwing  it  over  her  head,  stepped  to  his 
side. 

"Who  was  that  young  man  I  saw  you  talking  with 
down  near  Clifford's  the  other  morning?"  he  asked 
without  preface.      "You  know  when  I  mean." 

She  appeared  somewhat  surprised,  but  answered 
readily  enough. 

"Caleb  Broom,   sir." 

"You  called  several  times,  I  believe,  to  inquire 
about  the  young  preacher  who  was  hurt  and  who  was 
staying  there,  didn't  you?" 

She  dropped  her  eyes  in  sudden  embarrassment,  and 
held  the  shawl  a  little  closer  about  her  face. 

"Come — you're  an  honest  girl,  aren't  you?"  the  doc- 
tor said,  impatiently.  "If  so,  there's  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of!" 

"I  bean't  ashamed!"  she  suddenly  declared,  meeting 
the    doctor's    shrewd    gaze    squarely,    "but   folks   be 

59 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

talkin',  and  what  they've  sayed  es  cruel"  Her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  but  she  did  not  drop  them  again, 
"1  heard  un  preach  ower  to  Redruth,  'nd  he  spoke 
what  opened  mine  eyes  to  the  truth,  'nd  I  wull  be 
baptized  in  the  faith  no  matter  what  they  say." 

"Is  that  all  you  have  ever  had  to  do  with  him?"  he 
persisted,  not  ungently.  "Come,  Mary,  I'll  be  your 
friend,  no  matter  what  has  happened." 

"That  ^j  all!"  she  declared  emphatically,  her  dark 
eyes  flashing  the  honest  indignation  she  felt. 

Dr.  Brooks  was  convinced,  though  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  he  confessed  the  fact  to  himself 
with  a  certain  degree  of  disappointment. 

"There,  there,  Mary,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "I 
believe  what  you  say;  you're  a  good  girl.  But  think 
of  your  old  father,  he'll  take  it  hard  if  you  leave 
the  chapel  where  he  took  you  when  you  were  a 
baby." 

"I  do  think  o'  un — 'nd  I  want  Mr.  Brand  to  come 
and  talk  weth  un,  too." 

"Perhaps  he  will  when  he  is  strong  enough.  Can 
you  tell  me,  Mary,  where  I  can  see  Caleb?" 

"Ye' 11  likely  find  un  at  Trewin's,"  she  answered 
with  quickly  assumed  indifference.  "I  seen  un 
together  this  morning." 

From  Caleb,  Dr.  Brooks  could  gain  nothing,  except 
the  sullen  admission  that  he  hated  the  new  preacher, 
but  that  he  had  abandoned  all  further  idea  of  ven- 
geance. 

"Thomas  Batt  brung  complaint  against  un  'nd  they 
bound  un  ower  t'  keep  the  peace,"  exclaimed  Trewin, 
indicating  the  young  man  at  his  side.  "But  ye'd  bet- 
ter tell  un  that   there's  men  a  plenty  aside  from  us  as 

60 


THE      COURSE      OF       EVENTS 

won't  stand  un's   preachin'   'nd    tracktin'   'nd  smooth 
talkin'  here." 

'They're  a  set  of  dumb,  obstinate,  savage  brutes," 
said  Dr.  Brooks  to  himself,  exasperated  Into  the  utter- 
ance of  a  gross  Injustice,  as  he  drove  away  little  wiser 
than  when  he  came. 


61 


CHAPTER    VII 

A   VEILED    COURTSHIP 

Eaton  Brand  was  not  ignorant  of  the  impression  he 
had  made,  nor  blind  to  its  advantages.  He  had  neither 
feared  nor  shunned  the  task  of  thorough  analysis,  both 
of  the  situation  and  of  his  own  desires.  He  knew 
there  were  tremendous  obstacles  in  his  way,  but  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  meeting  obstacles  all  his  life, 
and  he  had  learned  in  the  school  of  experience  to  have 
confidence  in  himself  and  in  his  own  resources. 

His  habit  of  religious  thought  also  reinforced  his 
inclination.  It  was  for  this,  he  thought,  that  his  steps 
had  been  guided  hither  and  that  the  fury  of  his  ene- 
mies had  been  permitted  to  burst  upon  him.  Provi- 
dence had  also  been  preparing  this  confiding  girl,  who 
possessed  such  genius  for  enthusiasm,  to  receive  a  mes- 
sage that  would  otherwise  have  been  hopelessly  strange 
to  her. 

During  dinner  he  noticed  that  his  host  seemed 
strangely  irritable,  and  that  he  invariably  interrupted 
every  approach  to  the  usual  topic  of  conversation. 
He  also  observed  that  a  cloud  as  of  sorrow  or  of  self- 
questioning  had  descended  to  obscure  Carissa's  usually 
bright  spirits.  He  cast  about  him  to  find  the  reason 
for  this  change,  though,  to  his  mind,  her  pensive, 
tremulous  thoughtfulness  revealed  a  new  charm  that 
touched  him  deeply. 

The  days  were  passing.  He  must  soon  take  his 
departure.      If  his   cherished   wishes    should   be    sus- 

62 


A      VEILED       COURTSHIP 

pected,  every  long  established  influence  of  her  life 
would  become  arrayed  '  against  him — and  the  very 
opportunities  which  had  thus  far  favored  him  and 
upon  which  he  counted,  would  be  gone. 

He  must  speak  soon,  and  plainly.  No  matter  what 
the  risk,  he  must  not  delay  much  longer  in  putting  the 
matter  to  the  test. 

What  had  he  to  build  upon?  Her  sympathy  for 
him  and  for  his  people.  Her  restlessness  and  desire 
for  a  place  in  the  real  work  of  the  world,  and  that 
unknown  quantity — whatever  of  personal  regard  and 
interest  he  had  been  able  to  inspire. 

When  the  two  men  rose  from  the  table.  Brand  went 
to  the  terrace,  where  they  usually  spent  the  long 
summer  evenings,  but  Carissa  was  not  there,  and  he 
felt  a  pang  of  sudden  disappointment.  The  next 
moment  he  heard  Mr.  Gordon  approaching  down  the 
hall,  and  wishing  to  be  alone,  he  stepped  down  from 
the  terrace  and  crossed  the  lawn  into  the  park. 

Near  the  entrance  was  a  broad  stone  seat,  sheltered 
by  trees,  and  commanding  a  view  of  the  rough  bleak 
country  between  Gwennap  and  St.  Day. 

Here  he  found  Carissa,  and  his  face  cleared  of  its 
shadow  as  she  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  welcome  at 
his  approach. 

"I  have  been  looking  for  you,"  he  said  in  a  way 
that  invited  her  confidence.  "I  have  not  seen  you 
since  morning.  These  golden  days  are  precious  to 
me.     I  prize  them,  for  they  must  pass  away  so  soon." 

"I  know,"  she  said  a  little  sadly,  turning  her  eyes 
away  from  him. 

"I  have  lingered  longer  now,  than  I  should,  per- 
haps," he  went  on.      "But  you  have  come  into  my  life 

63 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

strangely,  and  I  have  wanted  to  make  myself  known 
to  you,  and  my  work.'* 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  but  she  made  no  sign,  and 
he  continued.  "I  have  felt  the  charm  of  the  life  you 
live,  and  know  that  the  story  of  my  people,  and  their 
hopes,  must  have  sounded  strangely  to  you,  who  have 
been  reared  in  this  quiet  atmosphere." 

"It  has  sounded  strangely,"  she  confessed,  yielding 
to  her  native  instinct  for  straightforward  utterance, 
"and  all  that  suffering  seems  so  unnecessary.  I  did 
not  know  that  men  were  so  cruel." 

"How  could  you  know?"  he  answered  compassion- 
ately. "Your  life  has  been  sheltered;  circumstances 
have  put  you  outside  the  realm  where  men  battle  and 
struggle  against  adverse  conditions,  and  where  vin- 
dictive passions  of  hatred  and  violence  are  given  free 
rein.  You  have  never  felt  the  tide  of  life,  desperately 
surging  on  in  the  darkness,  where  men  are  blindly 
fighting  for  the  next  thing  that  seems  desirable,  and 
trampling  those  who  would  introduce  the  light  of 
God's  message.  Yet  the  spirit  of  Christ  would  lead 
us  to  throw  ourselves  against  the  current  as  He  did, 
and  be  swept  away,  if  need  be,  by  the  torrent  of  their 
bitter  animosity." 

He  knew  that  he  had  arrested  and  was  holding  her 
attention;  more  than  that,  he  was  forcing  her  convic- 
tion. His  voice  was  rich  in  quality,  and  under  perfect 
control;  the  rugged  lines  of  his  face,  in  spite  of  its 
slight  pallor,  spoke  of  strength  and  of  the  energy  of 
conviction.  His  glance  was  fearless  and  magnetic; 
and  the  vivid  mark  still  upon  his  temple  brought 
before  her  the  scene  of  violence  where  he  had  been  the 
strangely  unresisting  victim. 

64 


A      VEILED       COURTSHIP 

"There  have  been  many  brave  battles  in  defense  of 
what  men  believed  to  be  the  truth,"  he  continued, 
"but  the  greatest  struggle  of  the  ages  is  before  us. 
Our  prophet  was  commanded  to  set  up  the  visible 
kingdom  of  God  upon  earth,  and  was  clothed  with 
authority  to  rule  in  the  name  of  Christ.  The  result 
has  been  the  breaking  forth  of  a  storm  of  persecution 
as  bitter  as  in  the  days  of  the  early  church." 

Carissa  had  never  heard  any  one  speak  as  he  spoke. 
There  had  never  been  any  hint  of  apology  for  intro- 
ducing a  subject  of  conversation  which  had  always 
been  politely  avoided  by  her  uncle  and  his  friends. 
And  it  certainly  is  not  strange  that  his  bold  and 
enthusiastic  championship  of  a  cause,  which  others 
despised,  should  command  her  thorough  respect  and 
reinforce  her  feeling  of  personal  interest. 

Suddenly  he  turned  again  to  her  and  said  in  a  low 
tone,  "During  these  days  I  have  spoken  to  you  very 
freely  about  my  work.  Do  you  think  it  presumptuous 
that  I  believed  you  would  not  only  understand  it,  but 
also  appreciate  it,  and  perhaps — love  it?" 

She  was  confused  by  the  abrupt  transition,  and 
something  in  his  tone  called  the  blood  quickly  to  her 
cheeks. 

"Have  you  not  felt  that  there  was  a  place,  some- 
where in  the  world,  waiting  for  you?"  he  insisted, 
"and  some  work  that  you  alone  could  do?" 

As  he  studied  her  face,  he  felt  his  pulse  beat  a  little 
quicker.  In  his  experience,  he  had  learned  that  he 
could  safely  count  on  a  certain  restlessness  and  dis- 
satisfaction with  present  spiritual  attainments  in  per- 
sons of  ardent  temperament.  Carissa  had  never  been 
fully  in  sympathy  with  the  religious  services  to  which 

65 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

she  had  been  accustomed.  She  had  confessed  the 
fact  sadly,  but  so  far  the  habit  of  a  lifetime  had  held 
her  to  what  was  familiar.  Would  he  be  able  to  lead 
her  to  break  through  this  habit?  Presently  she  looked 
up  and  he  saw  that  her  face  was  full  of  trouble. 

"What  can  I  do?"  she  asked,  appealingly.  "I  do 
not  want  my  life  to  be  stifled  in  idle  contentment, 
and  I  have  dreamed  that  I  had  a  work  to  do  in  the 
world  if  I  only  knew  the  way." 

He  leaned  toward  her  impulsively,  while  a  strange 
light  came  into  his  eyes. 

"I  know  that  the  traditions  of  your  world  are  all 
opposed  to  your  desire,"  he  said,  in  a  controlled 
voice.  "But,  could  you  not  brave  these  traditions? 
Tell  me,  would  you  dare  to  form  convictions  that 
would  alienate  you  from  your  kind?  Would  you  have 
the  strength  to  act  on  those  convictions,  once 
formed?" 

She  was  bewildered  by^  the  directness  of  his  low- 
voiced  questions,  and  yet  was  intensely  moved.  He 
saw  it,  and,  turning  away  from  her,  he  fixed  his  eyes 
on  the  ground,  while  he  began  plucking  to  pieces  a 
bit  of  trailing  vine,  which  clambered  profusely  over 
the  low  railing. 

"From  earliest  boyhood,  I  have  been  made  to  feel 
the  attitude  of  the  world  to  the  cause  I  love,"  he 
began,  sadly.  "I  have  not  spared  myself,  and  I  have 
never  regretted  the  toil.  I  have  never  married, 
because,  well, — my  whole  soul  has  been  absorbed  in 
the  work.  I  have  preached  in  city  streets  and  coun- 
try lanes,  sometimes  to  thousands,  sometimes  to 
groups  of  two  and  three.  I  have  faced  anger,  criti- 
cism,   ridicule,    and   contempt.      Sometimes   the    way 

66 


A      VEILED       COURTSHIP 


has  seemed  lonely,  and  the  world  hopelessly  set 
against  the  truth.  At  such  times  confidence  in  my 
message  alone  has  sustained  me; — again  the  way  has 
opened  marvelously,  and  thousands  have  believed;  vil- 
lages have  been  transformed  and  whole  districts  have 
been  aroused." 

He  suddenly  looked  and  saw  the  bright  tears  of 
sympathy  in  her  eyes. 

"But  it  has  been  glorious  1"  he  went  on  with  a  smile 
of  triumph.  "Glorious  in  spite  of  the  difficulties.  It 
was  very  trying  at  first,  to  be  laid  aside  during  these 
weeks,  doubly  important  because  they  marked  the 
close  of  my  mission;  but  I  am  beginning  to  see  that 
God's  hand  was  in  it." 

His  voice  dropped,  and  a  note  of  something  more 
than  reverence  thrilled  through  the  reverent  form  of 
speech. 

"It  was  His  way  of  leading  me  to  this  place,  and 
— to  you."  Perhaps  no  other  words  could  have  met 
her  mood  so  perfectly,  or  have  so  firmly  rooted  her 
convictions  of  his  truth  and  sincerity. 

"May  I  tell  you  what  an  inspiration  you  have  been 
to  me?"  he  urged,  meeting  her  glance  fully  and  cast- 
ing away  all  reserve.  "Your  sympathy  and  your  ready 
understanding  have  been  very  sweet  after  so  many 
years  of  toil  and  hardship  in  an  openly  hostile  world." 

She  understood  him,  and  for  an  instant  met  his  gaze 
confidently,  but  then— the  thought  came  of  how  much 
was  involved,  her  eyes  became  troubled,  and  she 
looked  away, 

"Do  you  understand  me?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of 
gentle  insistence. 

"I  have  been  glad  to  hear  you,"  she  answered,  hesi- 

67 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

tatingly,  while  the  color  returned  quickly  to  her  face. 
Suddenly  she  turned  to  him  bravely,  and  continued, 
"You  have  opened  a  new  world  to  me,  but  I  do  not 
understand  it.  It  seems  impossible  that  men  should 
be  so  bitter  against  teachings  that  inspire  only  noble 
thoughts  and  ideals  that  are  so  worthy." 

"Do  the  ideals  that  I  have  presented  to  you  seem 
worthy?"  he  leaned  forward,  and,  as  he  spoke,  was 
intently  studying  the  expression  of  her  face.  "Do 
they  seem  worthy  in  comparison  with  those  with  which 
you  have  been  familiar?  Are  they  worthy  of  a  life's 
devotion?  And  of  sincere  advocacy,  even  at  the  cost 
of  sacrifice?" 

It  was  a  moment  of  conflict,  she  felt  an  impulse  to 
confess  her  convictions  without  reserve,  no  matter 
what  it  might  involve,  but  something  held  her  back. 
This  strong  personal  appeal  had  shaken  her,  and  she 
felt  the  need  of  steadying  herself.  Perceiving  this, 
his  manner  changed.  An  expression  of  discourage- 
ment swept  over  him,  but  he  was  still  alert  to  catch 
each  change  in  the  mood  of  his  listener. 

"I  have  not  been  granted  time  to  present  these 
things  before  you,"  he  said,  wearily.  "Your  sym- 
pathy has  been  very  generous,  but  forgive  me!  I  have 
permitted  myself  to  indulge  in  a  dream  of  unreality,  it 
may  be.  There  are  so  many  things  that  must  hold 
you  to  this  life." 

It  was  a  subtle  appeal  to  her  awakened  spirit  of  dis- 
content. Was  she  willing  to  return  to  her  old  life  of 
indecision?  All  the  thoughts  that  she  had  been 
cherishing  during  the  past  few  days  returned  in  force 
to  hasten  her  inclination.  Nevertheless,  she  felt  that 
something  which  she  was  yet  unwilling  to  meet,  was 

68 


A      VEILED       COURTSHIP 

lying  at  the  back  of  the  decision  she  was  called  upon 
to  make,  and  her  spirit  faltered. 

She  was  about  to  express  her  fear,  but  he  stopped  her. 

"Do  not  answer  to-night!"  he  said,  quickly  inter- 
preting her  hesitation,  and  speaking  in  a  quick,  low 
tone — "There  is  nothing  more  that  I  can  urge,  save — 
that  I  love  you!  Carissa,  Carissa — let  me  call  you  by 
that  name  at  least  this  once.  Remember,  as  you  think 
of  this  to-night,  that  all  my  hopes  are  centered  upon 
your  decision." 

He  laid  his  hand  for  a  single  instant  upon  hers — 
and  she  felt  the  thrill  of  its  trembling  pressure,  then 
he  quickly  turned  from  her  side  and  walked  away 
among  the  trees. 

For  a  long  time  she  remained  quietly  in  the  same 
position,  scarcely  thinking,  but  with  a  terrible  sense 
of  loneliness  in  her  heart. 

Finally  she  heard  her  uncle  calling,  and  shivered 
a  little  as  she  rose  to  meet  him.  She  had  not  noticed 
that  the  sun  had  long  since  gone  down,  or  that  it  was 
growing  dark. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Carissa,  and  where  is  Mr. 
Brand?"  he  asked,  bluntly. 

"He  started  out  for  a  walk  some  time  ago,"  she 
answered,  "and  I  have  been  sitting  on  the  old  stone 
seat." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  until  they  reached  the 
house.  When  they  entered  the  hall,  Mr.  Gordon 
said,  irritably,  "I  shall  be  glad  when  he  sees  fit  to 
take  his  departure.  He  is  becoming  more  tiresome 
every  day  with  his  absurd  airs  and  theories." 

Carissa  looked  up  in  something  like  astonishment, 
wondering  what  could  have  happened. 

60 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"I  have  been  thinking  about  our  trip  that  we 
planned  to  Portreath,"  he  went  on,  "and  the  more  I 
think  of  it,  the  less  I  like  it." 

"But  we  have  promised  to  go,"  she  remonstrated, 
"and  you  know  how  much  I  want  to  hear  him." 

"I  know  we  have  promised,  and  I  suppose  we  shall 
have  to  do  it,"  he  replied,  with  a  degree  of  petulance. 
"But  it  will  appear  very  singular  that  we  should  con- 
stitute ourselves  this  man's  protector  on  his  preaching 
tours,  besides — "  he  stopped  a  moment,  irresolutely, 
and  then  plunged  desperately  into  the  warning  he  had 
intended  to  give,  "Look  here,  Carissa,  I  hope  that  what 
I  am  going  to  say  isn't  necessary,  but  anyway  I  want 
you  to  remember  that  ]\Ir.  Brand  and  his  people  have 
no  place  whatever  in  your  life." 

The  words,  contemptuous  and  chilling  though  they 
sounded,  were  not  spoken  unkindly,  but  they  came 
like  a  shock  after  the  scene  through  which  she  had 
passed.  She  had  no  words  to  reply,  but  as  she  turned 
away  with  a  feeling  of  alienation  in  her  heart,  it 
forced  her  to  face  the  issue  squarely,  and  certainly 
hastened  her  resolution. 


70 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MR.  BUSBY   ASKS   A   FEW   QUESTIONS— A 
MORMON   SERVICE 

From  the  first,  old  Mr.  Busby  had  been  sorely 
troubled  at  the  thought  of  the  presence  of  this  stranger 
In  the  same  house  with  his  favorite.  In  spite  of  his 
gruff  manners,  he  had  a  heart  of  great  tenderness  for 
her,  and  had  watched  the  development  of  her  charac- 
ter from  girlhood  with  great  secret  satisfaction  and 
delight. 

Now,  however,  as  he  thought  of  her,  of  the  circum- 
stances in  which  she  was  placed,  and  of  the  interest 
she  had  manifested,  he  realized  that  the  very  charac- 
teristics which  had  delighted  him  in  the  past,  might 
become  the  source  of  considerable  mischief. 

"She's  too  deuced  romantic  in  her  notions,"  he  said 
to  himself  in  careless  contradiction  of  every  other 
opinion  that  he  had  ever  entertained.  "And  there's 
no  telling  what  infernal  doctrines  he'll  teach  her  if  he 
gets  a  chance." 

Reports  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  this  singular  sect 
had  been  current  in  England  for  some  time,  but  neither 
Gordon,  nor  Busby,  had  taken  the  trouble  to  inform 
themselves  concerning  it. 

Occasional  newspaper  articles,  usually  highly  sen- 
sational and  condemnatory,  had  come  under  their 
notice;  at  one  time  two  missionaries  had  made  a  quiet 
house  to  house  canvass  of  the  district,  and  a  few 
meetings   had  been    held,   but   no   one    had    attended 

71 


BY    ORDER     OF    THE     PROPHET 

except  some  of  the  servants  and  a  few  working  people 
from  the  villages;  Busby  had  not  considered  the 
matter  worthy  of  more  than  passing  notice,  until  the 
besfinninsr  of  that  chain  of  unfortunate  circumstances 
which  led  Mr.  Gordon  to  receive  one  of  these  people 
into  his  house  as  a  guest. 

As  soon  as  his  attack  of  the  gout  had  subsided 
sufficiently  to  permit  his  getting  around  again  with 
the  aid  of  his  stick,  Busby  determined  to  go  over 
to  Squire  Gordon's  and  satisfy  himself  that  his  fears 
were  groundless. 

On  the  way  he  met  Dr.  Brooks,  who  drew  rein  and 
looked  back  at  the  house  he  was  leaving,  a  little  anx- 
iously. 

"You  haven't  been  over  for  several  days?"  he 
inquired  as  Busby  stopped  by  the  side  of  the  trap. 

A  grumbled  malediction  upon  his  affliction  was  the 
sufficient  answer. 

"I'm  afraid  a  great  mistake  has  been  made,"  the 
doctor  continued,  anxiously. 

"I'm  sure  of  that!"  interrupted  Busby,  with  con- 
siderable energy. 

"He  seems  to  have  established  a  very  strong 
influence  over  her,"  the  doctor  went  on,  regretfully. 
"I  tried  to  remonstrate  yesterday,  but  it  was  of  no 
use." 

"Why  doesn't  Gordon  get  rid  of  the  fellow?"  Busby 
demanded. 

"He  will,  I  suppose,  now  that  the  mischief  has  been 
done,  and  her  mind  has  been  thoroughly  poisoned," 
was  the  bitter  answer.  "He  seems  to  think,  though, 
that  no  great  harm  has  been  done." 

Busby  needed   no   further  explanation,   but  with  a 

72 


MR.    BUSBY   ASKS    A   FEW   QUESTIONS 

heartfelt   curse   upon   his  old  friend's  stupidity,  made 
his  way  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  the  house. 

He  found  ^Ir.  Gordon  and  his  niece,  with  their 
guest,  seated  on  the  stone  terrace.  Gordon  was  evi- 
dently uncomfortable  and  ill  at  ease.  Carissa's  face 
wore  a  peculiar  expression  of  defiant  interest,  and  her 
eyes  were  sparkling  with  intense  feeling;  as  Busby 
approached,  she  rose  to  meet  him  and  conducted  him 
to  a  large  rustic  chair,  well  cushioned  and  comfortable. 

"]\Ir.  Brand  is  telling  us  how  wonderfully  the 
church  is  prospering  in  spite  of  hatred  and  hostility," 
she  explained  eagerl}-,  and  almost  immediately 
turned  her  eyes  to  the  }'oung  apostle. 

Gordon  glanced  apologetically  at  his  friend,  who 
was  heated  from  his  walk  and  frowning. 

"If  I  may  be  permitted  to  interrupt,"  Busby  said, 
brusquely,  "I  would  like  to  ask  a  question." 

"Certainly,  sir."  Brand  turned  his  clear,  penetra- 
ting eyes  upon  him  and  smiled  courteously.  He 
expected  that  the  question  would  be  hostile,  but  he 
was  used  to  controversy. 

"I  have  heard  that  you  believe  in  a  golden  Bible, 
translated  by  the  aid  of  a  peep-stone.  Is  that  true?" 
He  spoke  sneeringly;  the  situation  as  it  appeared  to 
him  was  intolerable  and  needed  clearing.  He  had 
picked  up  certain  vague  points  on  the  subject,  and 
proposed  to  use  them  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

"Something  like  that,"  answered  Brand,  calmly. 
"Only  the  'golden  Bible'  is  a  record  of  the  early 
inhabitants  of  America,  and  the  'peep-stone'  was  the 
Urim  and  Thummim  of  the  Lord  Almight}'.  They 
were  both  revealed  to  the  prophet  Joseph  by  an  angel 
messenger  and  in  fulfillment  of  the  Scriptures." 

73 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Busby  was  exasperated  at  Brand's  coolness  and  his 
air  of  assurance,  and  his  own  face  became  purple. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  Lord  Almighty 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  insane  imaginings  of  an 
epileptic  money-digger?" 

"Mr.  Busby!"  exclaimed  Carissa,  horrified  at  his 
rude  violence. 

There  was  a  strange  look  of  fierce  indignation  in 
her  eyes.  Mr.  Gordon  also  appeared  a  little  uneasy 
at  his  friend's  uncompromising  methods,  though  he 
could  not  repress  a  comical  look  of  approval  at  the 
attack. 

"Let  me  reply,"  said  Brand,  quietly,  and  then 
turning  to  his  questioner  with  an  expression  of  stern- 
ness upon  his  face,  he  continued: 

"You  ask  concerning  God's  agency  in  this  work. 
First,  the  time  was  ripe  for  divine  interference.  The 
nations  of  the  earth  had  become  unutterably  corrupt. 
The  salt  of  Christianity  had  lost  its  savor.  The  church 
had  become  paganized — had  lost  its  pristine  glory  and 
beauty.  From  the  time  when  a  wicked  and  apostate 
church  began  to  persecute  the  saints  of  the  Most 
High,  killed  the  prophets  of  God  and  drove  the  priest- 
hood from  the  earth,  there  was  no  one  left  to  admin- 
ister the  ordinances  of  the  Gospel.  No  prophets,  no 
apostles,  no  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  no  one  to  act  as 
God's  mouthpiece  to  the  children  of  men." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  glanced  at  Carissa,  who 
was  regarding  him  with  deep  attention. 

"Because  this  was  true,"  he  continued  impressively, 
"the  iniquity  of  the  world  was  great.  The  church 
itself  had  become  Babylon,  the  scarlet  woman  the 
mother  of  harlots;  for  after  she  became  drunk  with  the 

74 


MR.    BUSBY   ASKS    A    FEW    QUESTIONS 

blood  of  the  saints,  she  became  the  mother  of  a  legion 
of  children,  the  so-called  Christian  sects,  with  their 
strife  and  divisions.  Look  around  you  and  observe 
the  discord  and  contention  that  prevail. 

"But  a  restoration  was  promised.  John  the  revela- 
tor  looked  forward  to  the  day  when  the  dispensation 
of  the  fullness  of  times  should  be  ushered  in.  'I  saw,' 
said  John,  'another  angel  fly  in  the  midst  of  heaven, 
having  the  everlasting  gospel  to  preach  unto  them 
that  dwell  on  the  earth,  and  to  every  nation  and  kin- 
dred and  tongue  and  people,  saying  with  a  loud  voice, 
Fear  God  and  give  glory  to  him;  for  the  hour  of  his 
judgment  is  come.'  " 

Brand's  face  was  luminous,  his  voice  was  thrilling. 
His  auditors  could  not  help  but  feel  the  spell  of  his 
magnetism.     He  lowered  his  voice  reverently. 

"That  vision  has  been  fulfilled;  the  Gospel  has  been 
restored;  God  has  set  up  His  kingdom  upon  earth, 
nevermore  to  be  thrown  down,  and  we  are  its  messen- 
gers." 

Mr.  Busby  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon  Carissa,  whose 
face  was  confident  and  glowing.  He  felt  that  perhaps 
he  had  made  a  mistake  to  provoke  a  discussion,  and 
that  some  diversion  must  be  made. 

"But  was  not  your  prophet,  Joseph  Smith,  shot  as 
an  impostor?"  he  demanded,  harshly. 

"True,"  replied  Brand,  sadly,  "but  was  not  Jesus 
Christ  crucified  for  the  same  reason?" 

"Come,  come,"  interposed  Gordon,  hastily.  "We 
have  discussed  this  subject  long  enough.  I  abominate 
these  religious  controversies." 

"One  more  question,"  persisted  Busby.  "They  say 
that  your  church  practices  polygamy.    Is  that  true?" 

75 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Carissa  glanced  quickly  at  their  guest.  His  face 
seemed  to  pale  and  then  to  flush  slightly  as  though 
stung  by  the  scorn  of  the  speaker. 

"The  report  is  false,"  he  said  abruptly,  and  then 
as  he  caught  the  expression  upon  Carissa's  face,  he 
added  calmly,  "the  slander  originated  with  an  apos- 
tate by  the  name  of  Bennett,  who  charged  that  the 
church  believed  in  the  doctrine  of  spiritual  wives.  I 
have  with  me  a  clipping  from  one  of  our  papers,  'The 
Times  and  Seasons,'  November,  1844,  which  fully 
answers  your  question."  He  took  the  paper  from  his 
wallet  and  read,  "  'The  law  of  the  land  and  the  rules 
of  the  church  do  not  allow  one  man  to  have  more  than 
one  wife  alive  at  once,  but  if  any  man's  wife  die  he  has 
a  right  to  marry  another  and  to  be  sealed  to  both  for 
eternity,  to  the  living  and  the  dead.  This  is  ^z// //^^ 
spiritual  wife  system  that  was  ever  tolerated  in  the  church.' 

"That  disposes  of  the  question,  I  believe,"  he  said, 
rising.  "Men  have  opposed  the  truth  with  all  their 
ingenuity.  I  suppose  that  this  will  always  be  the 
case.  When  other  methods  fail  they  resort  to  slander 
and  persecution,  social  ostracism  and  violence,  but 
God  will  guard  His  own  message  and  bring  it  forth 
glorious  in  spite  of  His  enemies.  And  now  if  you  will 
pardon  me,  I  will  seek  a  little  rest;  I  find  that  I  have 
not  fully  recovered  my  strength." 

As  he  entered  the  house,  Carissa  quietly  stepped 
from  the  terrace  and  took  her  way  to  the  old  stone  seat 
where  she  seated  herself  and  seemed  lost  in  thought, 
looking  off  over  the  irregular,  broken  and  picturesque 
parkland. 

The  old  friends  remained  on  the  terrace  silent  and 

constrained. 

76 


A      MORMON       SERVICE 

Finally  Busby  broke  the  silence  with  an  oath. 
"You  had  better  get  rid  of  that  fellow  as  quick  as  you 
can.  In  my  opinion,  you  were  a  fool  for  ever  taking 
him  in,"  he  said,  and  walked  away. 

Gordon  was  sorry  to  see  him  depart,  but  he  would 
not  call  him  back;  he  wanted  his  advice,  but  he  would 
not  ask  it;  he  was  perplexed  at  the  indication  of 
strong  self-willed  purpose  on  the  part  of  his  niece;  and 
he  feared  that  the  mischief  he  would  guard  against  had 
already  been  wrought. 

There  was  a  feeling  of  constraint  resting  upon  the 
party,  that  started  after  supper  on  the  drive  to  Por- 
treath.  Carissa  seemed  to  be  the  least  depressed  and 
talked  brightly  of  the  people  and  related  quaint  legends 
of  the  old  houses  that  they  passed. 

She  grew  silent,  however,  as  they  approached  their 
destination;  the  gathering  gloom  seemed  more  oppres- 
sive as  they  left  the  open  country  for  the  village  streets. 

**Down  this  way,"  said  Brand,  indicating  a  side 
street,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

A  motley  crew  of  men  and  boys  drew  back  as  the 
carriage  stopped. 

"Golly,  but  he's  a  holy  swell!"  cried  a  voice  from 
among  them. 

"Stow  that,  can't  you  see  Squire  Gordon's  weth  un?" 
said  a  lounger  from  the  water-side,  who  slouched  for- 
ward and  touched  his  cap  respectfully. 

Brand  paid  no  attention,  but  seeing  Carissa  coming 
forward  on  her  uncle's  arm,  he  went  forward  into  the 
place  of  meeting.  , 

The  "hall"  was  a  dreary-looking  place.  An  old 
barn,  long  since  abandoned,  had  been  resurrected  from 
a  state  of  almost  hopeless  decay,  and  was  lighted  with 

77 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

candles  and  spluttering  oil  lamps.  A  rude  contrivance 
at  one  side  of  the  low  shed  served  as  a  pulpit,  and 
unsmoothed  planks  supported  by  boxes  were  provided 
as  seats  for  the  people.  The  floor  was  of  dirt,  beaten 
bare  in  spots  and  scooped  in  little  hollows  where  the 
rain  had  driven  through  the  unthatched  roof.  A  num- 
ber of  people,  subdued  and  orderly  but  unmistakably 
of  the  lower  classes,  were  seated  quietly  in  the  front 
rows.  The  crowd  outside  closed  in  upon  the  entrance 
and  stood  awkwardly  staring  as  at  the  performance  of 
some  show.  Occasionally  a  small  boy  would  be  pro- 
pelled forward  by  a  push  from  behind,  and  would 
clumsily  scramble  back  under  cover  of  the  slow 
laughter  of  the  rest. 

*T  am  glad  we  came  after  all,"  thought  Gordon,  as 
they  seated  themselves  uncomfortably  on  one  of  the 
rickety  seats.  "This  ought  to  dispel  any  romantic 
notions  she  may  have  formed." 

Carissa  was  nervously  conscious  of  all  the  sordid 
conditions  about  her,  even  while  she  was  watching 
Brand  as  he  made  his  way  to  the  front.  She  sawhim 
now  in  a  new  light  as  he  stopped  and  spoke  in  low 
tones  to  the  people,  smiling  familiarly  and  kindly  and 
evidently  leaving  an  individual  word  of  promise  and 
good  cheer  as  he  passed. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  front  and  turned  about,  some 
one  started  a  hymn  in  a  rough  coarse  voice,  and  one  by 
one  the  others  took  up  the  strain;  it  was  not  music,  it 
sounded  too  harshly.  She  could  not  understand  the 
words  because  of  the  burr  on  the  tongues  of  the  sing- 
ers, but  before  it  was  ended,  it  affected  her  strangely. 
Earnestness  was  there  if  culture  was  lacking;  together 
with  faith    and   enthusiasm.     As   the   last  tones  died 

78 


A      MORMON      SERVICE 


away,  a  voice  was  lifted  in  prayer  and  every  head  was 
bowed.  In  prayer,  as  in  song,  Carissa  felt  that  there 
was  present,  beneath  the  coarseness  of  the  utterance 
and  uncouthness  of  the  language,  a  quality  that 
redeemed  it  all  and  made  it  infinitely  more  appealing 
to  her  than  all  the  melodious  intonations  of  priestly 
utterance  that  she  had  ever  heard. 

A  local  elder  seemed  to  be  in  charge  of  the  meeting, 
and  as  he  rose  to  introduce  the  speaker,  Gordon  turned 
to  Carissa  and  said,  contemptuously: 

"It's  Anthony  Sneed,  the  biggest  scoundrel  in  these 
parts.  He  was  Squire  William's  steward  until  they 
discovered  his  rascality  and  sent  him  off.  Your  whim 
has  brought  us  into  pretty  company,  my  dear." 

His  words  jarred  upon  Carissa.  She  made  no  reply, 
however,  for  Brand  was  now  speaking.  He  carefully 
adapted  his  words  to  the  comprehension  of  his  listen- 
ers, spoke  sympathetically  of  their  trials,  encouraged 
them  to  steadfastness,  exhorted  them  to  patience  and 
endurance,  set  forth  the  rewards  of  perfect  obedience, 
and  reminded  them  that  the  great  leaders  of  the  church 
were  thinking  for  them,  planning  for  them,  and  would 
know  of  their  faithfulness  and  fidelity.  He  urged 
them  to  live  soberly,  to  work  industriously,  to  save  all 
that  was  possible  from  their  wages  and  to  prepare  to 
leave  the  country,  where  they  had  known  hardship  and 
penury,  and  to  gather  to  that  inheritance  that  awaited 
them  in  the  promised  land. 

It  was  not  strange  that  these  people,  most  of  them 
living  cramped  lives  of  unremitting  toil,  with  no  hope 
of  a  future  change  for  the  better,  should  listen  to  him 
hungrily  and  should  catch  a  portion  of  his  outspoken 

enthusiasm. 

79 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Presently  his  glance  fell  full  upon  Carissa,  and  his 
theme  changed  almost  abruptly.  He  began  to  sketch  the 
outline  of  a  great  movement.  He  spoke  of  the  need 
of  the  world,  groping  about  in  the  darkness,  for  some 
guiding  ray  of  light.  He  declared  that  the  churches 
of  Christendom  were  of  pagan  origin,  and  described 
the  great  falling  away  in  the  days  of  Constantine,  when 
pagan  rites  were  introduced  within  the  sacred  precincts 
of  Christ's  altars,  the  truth  forgotten,  the  genuine 
ordinances  of  Christianity  neglected  or  corrupted  and 
the  people  deprived  of  any  possible  knowledge  of  the 
truth,  because  the  Bible  was  hidden  from  them  and  its 
text  tampered  with  in  the  monastic  seclusion  of  the 
dark  ages. 

At  first  his  speech  was  deliberate  and  his  tone 
low  and  measured,  but  gradually  he  grew  rapid 
and  vehement  and  his  enthusiasm  was  felt  by  his 
listeners,  while  his  voice  dominated  all  within  the 
enclosure. 

"The  so-called  Christian  centuries  since  the  days  of 
the  early  church  seem  to  me  woefully  pathetic.  Cen- 
turies when  the  Gospel  was  hidden  and  its  fruits  non- 
existent; when  force  was  exercised  to  compel  people 
to  submit  to  man-made  dogmas;  centuries  of  the  con- 
vent and  the  cloister,  of  the  rack  and  the  thumb-screw, 
of  fire-brand  and  sword,  of  heartache  and  despair; 
when  hypocrites  taught  for  hire  and  divined  for  money! 
No  wonder  that  the  truth  perished  from  the  earth  and 
God  withdrew  His  communication  from  those  who 
wrested  it  only  to  their  own  destruction. 

"The  world  has  seen  many  reformers  who  recog- 
nized the  apostasy  into  which  the  church  had  fallen, 
and   testified    against    it.       But    none   of    them   were 

80 


A      MORMON      SERVICE 


divinely  commissioned  to  make  restoration,  none 
spoke  with  the  authority  of  the  prophets  and  apostles 
of  old,  and  the  result  is  seen  in  the  multitude  of  war- 
ring, conflicting  sects,  who  accuse  each  other  of  error 
while  blindly  pursuing  their  own  instincts  instead  of 
the  voice  of  God.  The  darkness  of  the  dark  ages  is 
resting  on  the  minds  of  men  to-day,  but  we  are  the 
divinely  commissioned  heralds  of  the  dawn.  The  last 
days  are  upon  us,  and  God  has  spoken.  The  heavens 
have  opened  and  the  keys  of  a  new  dispensation  have 
been  committed  to  men. 

"These  are  the  last  days.  It  was  just  thirty-one 
years  ago  when  the  Gospel  was  restored,  and  a  prophet 
was  raised  up  who  would  establish  Christ's  visible 
kingdom  upon  earth.  What  a  glorious  mission!  To 
him  was  given  authority  to  issue  a  call  for  the  gather- 
ing of  His  people  to  Zion.  The  call  has  gone  forth! 
The  people  are  coming!  Coming!  The  time  is  at 
hand  when  the  nations  of  earth  shall  hearken  to  the 
voice  of  the  Most  High  through  His  servants.  Will 
you  heed  the  call?  You  who  have  felt  the  truth  of  the 
message?" 

He  paused  abruptly.  His  burning  glance,  turned 
full  upon  her,  drove  the  question  home  to  Carissa's 
quivering  heart.  He  seemed  to  forget  the  people 
before  him,  and  she  forgot  them.  Her  lips  moved, 
but  she  could  not  speak.  She  knew  what  her  answer 
would  be. 

"There  will  be  difficulties  before  you.  Will  you 
heed  them?"  he  was  speaking  again  with  a  strange 
cadence  of  tenderness  in  his  voice. 

"Old  ties  will  be  hard  to  sever.  Will  you  heed  the 
call?     New  scenes,  new  faces  await  you.     Will  deci- 

81 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

murmured  passionately,  as  he  held  her  in  a  long  close 
embrace. 

She  had  no  thought  for  the  immediate  future.  This 
first  love  of  her  life  was  strong,  true,  satisfying.  It 
left  no  room  for  regret  or  questioning,  but  the  mind  of 
Brand  soon  turned  to  the  conditions  they  must  con- 
sider. It  would  be  an  hour  before  the  breakfast  bell 
would  be  sounded,  but  there  was  much  still  to  be  put 
before  her.  He  realized  that  there  was  a  battle  still 
to  be  fought  before  he  could  look  upon  his  happiness 
as  assured,  and  he  needed  to  prepare  her  mind  for 
what  was  inevitable. 

■  "Come,  dearest,"  he  said  presently,  leading  her 
gently  to  the  low  window  seat  and  taking  his  place 
by  her  side.  "There  are  some  things  we  must  speak 
about.  Have  you  thought  of  the  difficulties  that  will 
be  thrown  in  your  way?  Mr.  Gordon,  your  uncle,  how 
will  he  look  upon  it?" 

At  the  question  her  face  became  troubled  in  spite 
of  her  happiness,  and  her  lip  quivered.  She  reached 
out  her  hand  appealingly. 

"I  have  thought  of  that,"  she  confessed.  "And  he 
has  been  so  good  to  me." 

"Darling,  is  your  love  equal  to  the  tests  that  may  be 
put  upon  it?"  He  caught  her  hand  and  held  it  firmly 
while  he  looked  with  passionate  eagerness  into  her 
eyes.  "Let  me  ask  you  again,  Carissa,  are  you  quite 
willing  to  brave  all  the  traditions  of  your  life?  To 
face  the  certain  displeasure  of  your  uncle  and  the  dis- 
approval of  all  your  friends?  Are  you  quite  ready  to 
leave  this  beautiful  home  and  all  that  it  promises  of 
ease  and  comfort,  and  to  cast  in  your  lot  with  one  who 
loves  you  wholly,  but  who  will  be  compelled   to  take 

84 


CARISSA  ACTS  OX   HER  CONVICTIONS 

you  into  unaccustomed  scenes  of  action  and  toil?  Are 
you  willing  to  adopt  his  faith,  share  his  life  and  be 
counted  among  his  people?" 

The  time  of  her  hesitation  was  past;  true  love  never 
falters  at  the  call  to  sacrifice.  Every  word  that  he 
spoke  drew  her  closer  to  him.  Even  her  half  awak- 
ened regret,  at  the  thought  of  leaving  all  that  was 
familiar,  was  lost  in  the  enthusiasm  he  knew  so  well 
how  to  invoke. 

"I  will  choose  you  before  all  the  world,"  she  said, 
in  blind  devotion  to  the  call  her  heart  had  heard,  and 
yielding  herself  again  to  his  embrace. 

"Darling,"  he  murmured  in  passionate  sincerity, 
"God  will  reward  you  for  the  sacrifice  you  are  making, 
and  may  His  anger  fall  upon  me  if   I  ever  forget  it." 

At  this  time  there  was  no  question  with  him  but 
that  her  love,  so  freely  given,  would  stand  supreme  in 
all  his  life. 

"Carissa,"  he  began  again  in  a  low  tone  after  a 
moment  of  silence,  "I  want  you  to  know  that  there  is 
no  room  for  doubt  of  you  in  my  heart,  but  you  must 
understand  our  position.  We  must  start  to-day  for 
London.  There  we  will  be  married.  Will  you  trust 
me?     Believe  me  there  is  no  other  way." 

She  was  startled  at  his  words,  and  a  deep  flush 
mounted  to  her  cheeks,  but  he  went  on  steadily: 

"I  will  speak  to  your  uncle  this  morning;  I  will  tell 
him  of  our  love,  but,  dearest,  do  not  deceive  yourself 
with  false  hopes.  He  will  reject  me  utterly.  Do  you 
not  know  that  he  has  other  plans  for  you?  He  will 
seek  to  hold  you  to  the  life  he  has  mapped  out  for  you. 
Have  you  not  seen  his  utter  lack  of  sympathy  with  the 
cause  of  God  that  I  represent?     After  I  have  spoken, 

85 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  remain  in  this  house, 
where  so  great  happiness  has  come  to  me;  or  to  see 
you,  even  for  one  moment;  darling,  it  is  torture  to  say 
these  things  and  to  feel  how  true  they  are,  but  you 
must  understand  and  be  prepared.  For  the  first  time 
I  feel  the  bitterness  and  hardness  of  my  position,  now 
that  I  am  asking  you  to  share  it.  I  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  go,  but  I  cannot  leave  you,  Carissa;  come 
what  may,  you  must  go  with  me.  We  will  soon  sail 
for  America,  and  our  new  home  will  be  among  the 
chosen  people  of  God.  Sweetheart,  this  is  one  of  the 
tests  of  your  faith  and  your  love;  you  must  not  falter; 
can  I  trust  you?" 

She  was  pained  and  bewildered  as  she  gazed  at  his 
pleading  face,  and  listened  to  his  urgent,  passionate 
words.  She  knew  that  her  uncle  would  be  angered; 
she  remembered  his  irritation  and  his  reproof  uttered 
in  a  tone  of  cold  contempt  the  night  before,  but  she 
had  not  considered  that  her  decision,  once  made,  must 
be  acted  upon  so  suddenly.  There  was  no  wavering  in 
her  confidence  as  a  result  of  this  demand  made  upon 
it,  but  her  lips  were  forming  a  gentle  remonstrance 
and  plea  for  patience,  when  her  uncle  suddenly  entered 
the  garden. 

Mr.  Gordon  had  passed  a  troubled  night.  His  atten- 
tion, once  aroused,  had  been  keen  enough  to  take  in 
something  of  the  significance  of  the  situation.  The 
more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more  exasperated  he 
had  become  at  Carissa's  unheard  of  folly,  and  the  more 
bitterly  he  blamed  himself  for  his  blindness.  He  did 
not  believe,  however,  that  it  was  more  than  a  passing 
romantic  interest  that  she  had  conceived  for  this  man 
and  his  theories,  but  it  was  an  exceedingly  unpleasant 

86 


CARISSA  ACTS  OX  HER  CONVICTIONS 


revelation  that  she  was  capable  of  anything  so  absurd. 
It  angered  him  that  the  warnings  of  both  Brooks  and 
Busby  should  be  justified.  He  could  not,  however, 
get  away  from  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses,  and, 
after  much  inward  debate,  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
to  take  the  advice  given  and  dismiss  his  guest,  without 
ceremony  if  necessary,  before  the  day  was  over. 

As  he  made  his  way  to  the  garden,  where  he 
expected  to  find  Carissa,  he  was  thinking  these  things 
over  in  that  state  of  irritation,  peculiar  to  a  self-opin- 
ionated, easy-going  man,  who  has  been  suddenly  sur- 
prised by  an  unexpected  difficulty  in  his  way. 

When  he  saw  them  together  in  a  very  lover-like  atti- 
tude, he  was  terribly  startled;  the  full  significance  of 
what  might  be  involved  flashed  over  him.  His 
irritation  gave  place  to  a  great  anger. 

"Mr.  Brand,"  he  said,  in  a  constrained  tone,  "I 
may  have  been  at  fault  in  permitting  you  the  liberty 
that  you  have  enjoyed  in  this  place,"  he  glanced 
involuntarily  at  Carissa.  and  then  back  again  at 
Brand's  attentive  face.  "Pardon  me  if  I  am  unjust, 
but  I  need  your  assurance  that  you  have  not  taken 
advantage  of  that  liberty  and  of  my  blindness." 

"Uncle  Arthur!"  exclaimed  Carissa,  in  a  tone  of 
consternation,  but  Gordon  interrupted  her,   saying: 

"Be  silent,  Carissa!  I  am  speaking  to  Mr.  Brand. 
I  await  your  answer,  sir." 

Brand's  face  was  white  and  rigid,  but  his  bearing 
was  that  of  one  who  had  no  apologies  to  make. 

"I  intended  to  speak  wnth  you  this  morning,  Mr. 
Gordon,"  he  said  with  perfect  courtesy,  "to  confess,  in 
fact,  the  daring  hope  that  has  come  to  me.  If  you 
will  listen  to  me  I  will  speak  to  you  now." 

87 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Gordon  was  furious;  this  man's  attitude,  his 
very  air  of  courtesy  and  assumption  of  dignity,  while 
preferring  so  preposterous  a  request,  impressed  him  as 
a  premeditated  insult.  That  Carissa  should  stand  by 
and  listen  with  evident  sympathy  and  full  understand- 
ing, made  the  situation  unendurable. 

Said  the  squire,  "Mr.  Brand,  will  you  have  the 
goodness  to — to  leave  this  place?  Your  belongings 
will  follow  you  to  the  inn.  You  can  have  nothing  to 
say.     Nothing  that  I  should  care  to  listen  to!" 

Without  either  hurry  or  hesitation,  and  without  a 
word  of  protest  or  of  explanation,  Brand  stepped 
to  the  wicket;  turning,  he  gave  a  searching  look 
into  Carissa's  eyes,  and  in  another  moment  was 
gone. 

Left  to  themselves,  Gordon  experienced  a  feel- 
ing of  relief,  but  he  immediately  faced  his  niece  and 
demanded: 

"Carissa,  what  does  this  mean?  What  has  happened 
to  you?  I  have  been  blind,  indeed,  not  to  notice  your 
infatuation  for  this  smooth-tongued  adventurer." 

"You  are  unjust  and  cruel,"  she  exclaimed,  indig- 
nantly. Her  voice  was  tremulous,  but  a  spirit  of  out- 
raged womanly  dignity  looked  from  her  eyes.  "He  is 
a  true  man,  and  you  have  insulted  him.  He  was  your 
guest,  and  asked  to  speak  to  you,  and  you  have  driven 
him  unheard,  from  your  doors." 

"You  are  acting  ridiculously,  child,"   he  exclaimed, 

exasperated  anew  by  her  absurd  attitude  and  foolish 

defense.      "You  do   not   know   him   except  as   a   man 

that  gets  into  difficulties.     What  devil  influenced  me 

ever  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him, — to  open  my 

house  to  him!" 

88 


CARISSA  ACTS  OX    HER   CONVICTIONS 

He  turned  away  from  her,  and  began  pacing  the 
garden  walk. 

She  watched  him  in  painful  suspense.  She  wanted 
to  appeal  to  him,  but  he  gave  her  no  opportunity. 
She  wanted  to  make  him  understand  that  her  life's 
happiness  was  involved.  There  was  no  wavering  in 
her  purpose.  All  that  had  gone  before  had  simply 
intensified  her  feeling  of  love  and  loyalty;  but  she  felt 
that  she  could  not  leave  him  in  anger.  Finally,  she 
could  endure  it  no  longer. 

"Uncle,  uncle,  why  are  you  so  cruel  and  unjust?' 
she  cried  piteously.  "You  have  never  been  like  this 
before!     Why  will  you  not  see  him  as  he  is?" 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  looked  upon  her  sternly, 
as  he  said:  "Carissa,  how  far  has  this  foolishness 
gone?  Tell  me  plainly!  What  was  the  meaning  of 
your  agitation  last  night,  and  of  the  scene  I  have 
witnessed  this  morning?" 

She  remembered  the  words  that  Brand  had  spoken 
to  her,  and  the  meaning  look  he  gave  her  as  he  left 
the  garden.  The  recollection  steadied  her  and  gave 
her  strength. 

"I  love  him,  uncle,"  she  said,  meeting  his  gaze 
bravely,  "and — I  have  promised  to  be  his  wife." 

She  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  would  strike  her. 
She  had  never  dreamed  that  his  face  could  express 
such  a  passion  of  contempt  and  anger. 

"Child,  go  to  your  room!"  he  said,  with  concen- 
trated scorn  and  bitterness.  "We  are  well  rid  of  this 
man,  who  has  known  how  to  use  his  opportunities  so 

well." 

"Won't  you  listen  to  me.  Uncle  Arthur?"  she 
pleaded.      "Believe  me  I  am  not  ungrateful.     I  have 

89 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

always  loved  you.  I  have  always  obeyed  you.  For- 
give me  if  I  have  done  wrong.  But  surely  every 
woman  must  make  her  choice  some  day,  and  I  have 
chosen.  I  do  not  know  how  it  has  come  about,  and 
it  breaks  my  heart  that  you  are  so  terribly  angered. 
Will  you  not  forgive  me?" 

He  was  shocked  at  the  white  look  on  her  face,  and 
was  not  unmoved  by  her  plea.  He  stood  for  a  while 
as  though  stunned,  while  sorrow  and  incredulity  strug- 
gled with  the  feeling  of  anger  in  his  heart,  and  then  he 
motioned  her  away  from  him. 

"Leave  me  and  go  to  your  room!  You  do  not  know 
what  you  say  or  do!  I  will  never  believe  that  you — 
with  the  blood  of  the  Gordons  in  your  veins,  whom 
I  have  watched  from  girlhood — would  cast  yourself  at 
the  feet  of  a  vagrant  street  preacher." 

She  attempted  another  remonstrance,  but  he  refused 
to  listen,  and  she  finally  made  her  way  with  a  feeling 
of  hopelessness  to  her  room.  She  did  not  stop  to  con- 
sider what  she  should  do.  The  step  that  she  was  about 
to  take  seemed  terrible  to  her.  But  this  place  where 
she  had  spent  so  many  care-free  days  was  no  longer 
home  to  her.  Though  blinded  by  the  tears  that  would 
fall,  she  began  gathering  together  a  few  of  her  special 
treasures,  praying  God  to  forgive  her  if  she  were  doing 
wrong  in  obeying  the  imperative  impulses  of  her  heart, 
and  asking  Him  to  guide  her  in  the  future  to  which 
she  was  blindly  committing  herself. 

The  squire  followed  Carissa  into  the  house,  and 
rang  the  bell  for  the  maid. 

"Mr.  Brand  has  gone  back  to  Clifford's,"  he  said. 
"Have  John  collect  his  things  together  and  take  them 
to  him  " 

90 


CARISSA  ACTS  ON   HER  CONVICTIONS 

He  looked  at  the  untasted  breakfast  dishes.  "You 
may  clear  the  table,"  he  said.  "Miss  Graham  is  not 
well  this  morning,  and  I  am  going  over  to  breakfast 
with  Mr.  Busby." 

He  related  nothing  of  the  occurrences  of  the  morn- 
ing to  his  old  friend,  save  the  fact  of  Brand's  departure. 

"You  are  well  rid  of  him,"  commented  Busby, 
shortly.      "How  is  Carissa?" 

"She  is  not  feeling  very  well,"  said  Gordon,  and 
then  after  a  pause,  announced  energetically,  "I  am 
more  determined  than  ever  to  end  her  life  of  seclusion. 
She  must  see  more  of  the  social  life  of  this  neighbor- 
hood, and  I  am  going  to  open  up  the  old  house  now 
for  a  round  of  festivities." 

This  time  Busby  made  no  objection,  though  he  won- 
dered, grumblingly,  at  the  singular  perversity  of 
human  nature. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Mr.  Gordon 
returned  to  his  home.  He  experienced  a  little  dread 
at  the  thought  of  meeting  Carissa.  He  was  afraid  he 
had  shown  too  much  feeling  and  been  a  trifle  too 
imperative  during  the  scene  of  the  morning.  He  was  dis- 
appointed, however,  not  to  find  her  in  the  lower  rooms. 

"I  wonder  if  she  has  been  all  day  in  her  room,"  he 
thought,  and  blamed  himself  anew  for  his  harshness. 

He  rang  the  bell. 

"Tell  Miss  Graham  that  I  wish  her  to  come  down 
into  the  library,  please." 

Presently,  the  maid  returned,  breathless,  with 
strange  tidings. 

"Please,  sir,  mistress  Is  not  there.  The  pictures  of 
her  father  and  mother  are  gone,  and  her  room  is  in 
disorder!" 

91 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Gordon. 

"She  went  out  this  morning, — just  after  you  left," 
she  continued,  in  explanation.  "I  thought  it  strange, 
because  she  hadn't  had  any  breakfast,  and  she — O,  sir, 
I  hope  nothing  has  happened!" 

Gordon  waited  to  hear  no  more.  He  hurried 
from  the  room  and  climbed  the  stairs;  with  feverish 
haste  he  opened  the  door,  the  room  looked  strangely 
disordered  for  one  so  orderly  as  was  Carissa.  He 
turned  to  the  corner  where  had  hung  the  portraits  of 
her  father  and  mother;  they  were  indeed  gone.  The 
reality  of  it  all  burst  upon  him — he  dropped  into  the 
chair  by  the  window,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and 
groaned  aloud. 

In  the  meanwhile  Brand  and  his  future  wife  were 
well  on  their  way  to  London.  It  was  not  hard  for  him 
to  quiet  her  scruples  or  to  soothe  her  sorrow.  He  had 
won  a  complete  mastery  over  her  mind,  and  led  her 
skilfully  to  look  forward  to  the  new  life  that  was 
before  them,  which  he  painted  in  glowing  colors,  and 
with  that  mingling  of  passionate  tenderness  and  relig- 
ious fervor  which  seemed  to  belong  to  his  nature. 

A  few  weeks  later,  on  the  eve  of  their  departure  for 
America,  Carissa  wrote  to  her  uncle,  announcing  her 
marriage,  telling  of  her  perfect  happiness,  begging  his 
forgiveness,  and  enclosing  many  loving  messages  to 
the  friends  of  her  girlhood;  but  she  never  knew  how  it 
was  received,  for  Mr.  Gordon  after  reading  it  through 
his  tears,  put  it  away  in  the  old  family  Bible  among 
the  records  of  births,  marriages  and  deaths,  and  never 
replied  to  it  or  opened  his  lips  on  the  subject  till  the 
day  of  his  death. 


92 


CHAPTER   X 

AMBITIOUS    PROJECTS 

Eaton  Brand  felt  that  his  success  in  winning  Carissa 
as  his  wife  formed  a  fitting  climax  to  his  four  years  of 
missionary  effort  in  England,  and  he  was  exultant. 
She  suited  him  perfectly,  he  thought. 

The  long  dreamy  days  on  shipboard  brought  a 
sense  of  never-ending  delight.  Her  gentle  earnest- 
ness, sincerity  and  never-failing  sympathy— her  trust 
in  him,  her  eagerness  to  learn,  her  enthusiasm  and 
hope  for  the  future  all  made  their  appeal  to  him. 
He  was  aware  that  he  had  never  portrayed  more  elo- 
quently the  sorrows  and  struggles  of  his  people,  and 
that  he  had  never  so  thoroughly  idealized  their  aims 
and  projects  as  at  this  time  when  he  felt  the  sweet 
compulsion  of  her  perfect  confidence  and  answered  the 
loving  expectation  of  her  glowing  face. 

Brand  was  a  skilled  missionary.  He  was  not  an 
educated  man,  in  the  commonly  accepted  meaning  of 
the  term,  but  he  had  received  a  remarkably  effective 
training.  Since  the  expulsion  from  Nauvoo,  in  1S46, 
he  had  not  been  in  personal  touch  with  the  mass  of  his 
people.  But  he  was  strong  in  the  faith— hard  fighting 
in  its  behalf  had  made  him  strong. 

The  Mormon  priesthood  is  wise  enough  to  realize 
that  actual  service  is  the  best  theological  training. 
The  young  men  of  Mormonism  become  most  firmly 
attached  to  the  cause  by  being  pushed  out  early  to  do 

93 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

battle  for  it  in  the  face  of  opposition,  and  their 
resources  are  developed  by  forcing  them  to  trust  to 
themselves. 

Eaton  Brand  had  traveled  for  years  "without  purse  or 
scrip."  In  obedience  to  the  rules  of  the  church  he 
was  obliged  to  win  his  way  to  the  homes  of  the  people 
for  food  and  shelter,  and  his  powers  of  diplomacy  had 
been  trained  by  necessity. 

If  challenged,  he  never  denied  that  he  was  a  Mor- 
mon, but  he  never  announced  the  fact  rashly.  He 
preferred  to  be  known  as  an  Elder  of  the  Church  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  made  much  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
not  a  "hireling  preacher."  On  his  first  visit  he 
would  ask  the  names  of  the  churches  of  the  community, 
and  when  the  list  was  complete  would  express  his  sur- 
prise that  none  bore  the  name  of  Christ  Himself. 

"Yet  why  should  they  be  called  by  His  name?"  he 
would  ask  in  vigorous  attack. 

"They  do  not  administer  His  ordinances,  nor  exhibit 
the  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  nor  claim  the  same  officers  as 
did  the  true  church  of  Christ!" 

With  this  for  a  foundation,  he  would  urge  the  claims 
of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter  Day  Saints, 
and  through  long  experience  he  had  become  singularly 
adroit  and  successful. 

With  a  proposition  that  must  be  defended  at  all 
hazards  and  against  all  comers,  it  becomes  necessary 
to  gather  together  an  array  of  facts,  arguments  and 
illustrations  that  shall  be  able  to  stand  the  test  of  criti- 
cism. By  this  process  he  had  become  an  able  defender 
of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  his  people. 

He  read  church  history  for  facts  that  w^ould  prove 
the  apostasy  of  Christendom,  and  the   Bible  for  pas- 

9^ 


AMBITIOUS       PROJECTS 

sages  that  would  lend  support  to  the  peculiarities  of 
his  system.  He  studied  church  periodicals  and  the 
published  works  of  Mormon  church-writers,  and  sifted 
them  with  great  judgment  for  points  that  would  have 
weight  in  a  controversy. 

It  was  a  cardinal  principle  with  him,  as  with  all 
other  missionaries  of  his  faith,  never  to  introduce  the 
"further  mysteries,"  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the 
revelations  of  Joseph  Smith,  until  a  secure  foundation 
had  been  laid  in  unquestioning  faith  in  "first  prin- 
ciples." 

With  all  this,  his  great  personal  magnetism,  his  nat- 
ural eloquence  and  the  sternness  with  which  he  could 
repel  accusations  against  his  people  made  him  a  valu- 
able man  to  the  cause. 

He  was  thoroughly  respected  by  his  fellow-workers, 
but  had  been  thrown  into  slight  contact  with  them, 
and  had  become  what  he  was,  more  by  friction  with 
those  opposed  to  him  than  by  fellowship  with  those 
holding  similar  views. 

There  had  been  no  friction  in  his  intercourse  with 
Carissa.  Her  readiness  to  hear  him,  and  her  eagerness 
to  believe,  had  confirmed  the  impression  made  by  her 
beauty  and  had  satisfied  him. 

On  their  arrival  in  New  York,  Brand's  first  duty  was 
to  report  to  the  church  headquarters.  The  elder  in 
charge  was  somewhat  past  middle-age,  clean-shaven, 
thin-lipped,  strong-featured.  He  had  united  with  the 
church  through  the  influence  of  Brigham  Young. 

Brand  had  never  seen  him,  but  had  heard  him 
spoken  of  as  one  of  the  rising  men;  unlike  the  majority 
of  his  associates,  he  made  no  pretensions  to  oratorical 
ability.     His  style  was  sharp  and  cutting.     He  was  a 

95 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

keen  observer  of  human  nature,  and  seldom  made  a 
mistake  in  assigning  a  man  to  his  particular  task. 

Elder  Willard  greeted  Mr.  Brand  cordially,  and 
congratulated  him  on  the  success  of  his  mission. 

"Your  report  is  very  good,"  he  said  with  an  approv- 
ing look  at  Brand.  "You've  done  well  over  there,  but 
I'm  glad  you  are  to  work  on  this  side  for  a  while." 

"I  am  always  at  the  service  of  the  church,"  Brand 
responded.  "I  have  never  sought  to  evade  responsi- 
bility, or  to  shirk  duty.  But  I  hope  to  start  for  the 
west  in  the  spring." 

Willard  seemed  to  be  considering  the  matter  a 
moment,  then  asked  rather  abruptly: 

"You've  married  recently,  haven't  you,  and  brought 
your  wife  over  with  you?" 

"Yes;  and  I  want  her  to  be  'sealed'  to  me  as  soon  as 
possible,"  Brand  answered,  thinking  of  the  endow- 
ment ceremonies  at  Salt  Lake  City. 

"True,"  assented  Elder  Willard,  while  a  faint  smile 
flitted  across  his  thin  lips.      "Who  is  she  if  I  may  ask?" 

"She  is  the  daughter  of  an  English  clergyman  who 
served  for  a  number  of  years  as  chaplain  in  the  army. 
Her  father  and  mother  are  both  dead." 

"Is  she  educated?" 

"Yes,  and  she  has  read  a  great  deal,  and  is  alert 
and  enthusiastic." 

"How  long  have  you  known  her?" 

"Only  a  few  weeks." 

"Was  she  alone  and  unprotected?" 

"No."  Brand  was  irritated,  but  he  controlled  him- 
self, and  continued: 

"She  was  under  the  guardianship  of  a  well-to  do 
English  gentleman,  her  mother's  brother.      Her  home 

96 


AMBITIOUS       PROJECTS 

was  in  Cornwall,  and  her  uncle  is  a  man  of  great  influ- 
ence in  the  county." 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Elder  Willard  in  deliberate  sur- 
prise, and  regarding  Brand  fixedly.  "It  will  be  a 
change  for  her.     I   hope  you'll  not  find  her  difficult." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Brand,  indignantly. 

"My  dear  brother,  I  am  not  prompted  by  any  desire 
to  intrude,  or  to  give  you  annoyance.  You  doubtless 
understand  her  nature  better  than  I  do.  But  you  have 
never  been  to  Salt  Lake,  have  you?" 

"I've  been  on  a  mission  for  seven  years,  four  of 
them  in  England." 

"You  must  have  been  very  young  when  you  were 
first  commissioned?" 

"I  was  just  sixteen,"  Brand  answered. 

"Brother  Brand,"  Elder  Willard  began  smoothly, 
"aside  from  other  considerations,  it  will  be  well  for 
you  to  remain  for  a  time  in  the  east,  on  account  of 
your  wife.  You  know  there  are  few  women  of  her 
class  that  have  joined  the  emigration.  The  conditions 
out  there  aren't  perfect  yet.  You'd  find  interest 
enough  and  could  adjust  yourself  to  the  demands  of  a 
rough,  pioneer  life.  Of  course,  there  are  good  women 
there,  too,  but  they've  got  used  to  it,  and  their  faith  is 
sound  enough.  How  about  your  wife?  Do  you  think 
she'd  fit  the  life  right  away?" 

Brand  was  silent.  There  was  force  in  the  sugges- 
tion. A  dim  recollection  of  turbulent  scenes  in  the 
life  at  old  Nauvoo  came  to  him.  He  thought  of  those 
who  had  been  converted  under  his  ministry.  There 
was  something  chilling  in  Willard's  cold  smile  and 
quiet  words.  But  he  thought  of  Carissa's  enthusiasm, 
and  adaptability  and  he  finally  said  a  little  defiantly: 

97 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"She  is  a  very  sincere  believer." 

"I  don't  question  it,"  Elder  Willard  replied,  with  a 
peculiar  accent.      "But  what  does  she  knowr' 

As  he  asked  this  question,  he  leaned  forward  and 
looked  meaningly  at  Brand  who  flushed  slightly,  but 
made  no  reply. 

"I  surmised  as  much,"  Willard  continued  dryly. 
"It  could  not  well  be  otherwise." 

He  turned  to  his  desk  as  though  dismissing  the  sub- 
ject and  extracted  an  official  looking  document,  which 
he  handed  to  Brand. 

"You  may  read  it  if  you  like.  It  contains  the 
instructions  of  the  First  Presidency — you'll  see  that 
you  are  assigned  to  work  here." 

Brand  read  the  order,  and  laid  it  down  upon  the 
table  without  comment.  He  was  still  thinking  of 
Carissa,  and  of  the  fact  that  she  would  share  his  disap- 
pointment. He  was  also  more  troubled  than  he  was 
willing  to  admit  by  the  view  that  had  been  so  uncer- 
emoniously opened  to  him. 

"I  think  you  will  find  the  work  that  is  before  us  this 
winter  sufficiently  interesting,"  Elder  Willard  sug- 
gested dryly. 

"That  is  not  it,"  remonstrated  Brand,  smarting 
under  the  implied  reproach. 

"My  dear  brother,"  Elder  Willard  interrupted,  "I 
understand  your  feelings,  and  they  are  quite  natural, 
but  ours  is  a  work  that  requires  all  manner  of  sacri- 
fices. I  will  not  ask  you  if  you  think  it  is  worth  it. 
Your  record  speaks  for  itself.  During  the  past  you 
have  been  in  touch  with  one  phase  of  the  work,  while 
we  have  had  other  problems  to  deal  with."  For  a 
moment  he  seemed  to  be  lost  in  retrospection,  while 

98 


AMBITIOUS       PROJECTS 


his  face  gathered  an  expression  of  stern  resolve. 
"Many  forces  have  been  engaged.  Sometimes  they 
have  seemed  to  be  in  conflict.  But— what  is  the  re- 
sult? Working  together,  we  have  been  gathering  the 
materials  and  laying  the  foundations  of  a  kingdom 
that  will  soon  startle  the  world  by  its  virility  and 
strength,  as  well  as  by  its  power  to  enforce  its  claims." 
The  last  words  were  spoken  with  a  sudden,  startling 
accession  of  energy;  the  speaker  seemed  himself  to 
realize  it,  and  that  he  had  been  moved  unduly,  for  he 
deliberately  moderated  his  tone  and  resumed  with  an 
assumption  of  coolness: 

"This  is  not  new  to  you;  it  has  been  the  theme  of 
your  preaching.  The  gathering  of  the  Saints  means 
the  organization  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  religiously 
and  politically;  that  kingdom  is  now  actually  organ- 
ized, though  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  do  not  know 
it.  It  is  organized  to  take  effect  in  the  due  time  of 
the  Lord  and  in  the  manner  that  shall  please  Him. 
We  belong  to  the  holy  priesthood;  and  the  priesthood 
is  the  only  legitimate  government  of  God  whether  in 
the  heavens  or  on  earth.  This,  too,  you  have  believed 
whether  you  have  been  commissioned  to  proclaim  it 
openly  or  not." 

He  looked  at  Brand,  as  though  challenging  his 
ambition. 

"Brother  Brand,  do  you  see  our  position?" 

He  stepped  quickly  to  where  a  large  map  of  the 
United  States  was  tacked  upon  the  opposite  wall,  and 
placed  the  point  of  his  pencil  upon  a  flaming  red  cross 
far  to  the  westward. 

"This  is  the  promised  land.  Here  is  Zion,  the  new 
Jerusalem ;  yonder  is  the  Sea  of  Galilee ;  this  is  the  River 

99 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Jordan,  flowing  into  the  great  Dead  Sea  of  salt; 
around  about  are  the  everlasting  hills,  a  rocky  wall  of 
protection  from  all  our  foes.  Here  is  where  we  shall 
become  a  great  nation,  the  last  of  all  the  mighty 
nations  and  the  greatest,  for  from  Zion  shall  go  forth 
the  decrees  of  the  Lord  Almighty  to  all  nations, 
tongues  and  kindred  in  these  last  days." 

He  returned  to  his  seat.  Brand  was  thrilled  with 
the  unquestioned  earnestness  that  pervaded  the  quietly 
spoken  wordso  They  expressed  the  thought  that  had 
been  dominant  with  him  for  many  years. 

"True,"  he  said,  solenanly.  "For  so  the  Lord  has 
spoken." 

"Brother  Brand,  the  work  must  be  hastened.  There 
are  thousands  of  believers  scattered  through  the 
eastern  and  southern  states.  The  duty  of  gathering 
themselves  to  the  Lord's  appointed  place  must  be 
preached  with  greater  diligence.  We  have  a  vast 
country  that  must  be  occupied."  He  rose  and  stood 
again  by  the  map. 

"See,  it  extends  from  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the 
sea.  Our  settlements  are  pushing  southward  along 
the  Jordan  Valley  and  to  the  west.  The  colony  here 
at  San  Bernardino  is  growing  wonderfully  and  is 
already  beginning  to  swarm.  But  this  entire  domain 
must  be  occupied  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 
It  must  be  done  quickly.  Shall  the  will  of  the  Lord 
be  thwarted  through  our  sluggishness?" 

Brand  noticed  a  spot  of  red  growing  on  his  right 
cheek,  his  words  betrayed  a  certain  air  of  excitement. 

"This  land  is  ours.  But  the  federal  government 
claims  it,  by  right  of  treaty  with  Mexico.  The  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  California  has  attracted  a  vast  num- 

100 


AMBITIOUS       PROJ  EC  T'S 


ber  of  adventurers  who  will  dispute  our  title;  also 
emigration  has  begun  on  the  part  of  the  Gentiles,  and, 
if  we  would  hold  our  own,  the  people  must  gather,  and 
gather  quickly." 

"But  is  not  Congress  being  petitioned  to  recognize  the 
right  and  authority  of  the  State  of  Deseret?"  Brand 
interrupted. 

"Yes;  but  it's  useless.  They  have  already  denied 
our  petition,  and  federal  officers  are  being  appointed 
to  rule  over  us.  True,  President  Young  is  recognized 
as  governor,  but  they  will  seek  to  remove  him  on  the 
first  pretext;  the  jurisdiction  of  our  courts  is  refused 
recognition  at  Washington;  and  corrupt  men  from 
Washington  are  being  sent  out  to  stir  up  strife  and  to 
spy  out  our  doings." 

Much  of  this  was  news  to  Brand,  and  he  sat  in 
silence  reviewing  the  situation. 

"But,  thank  God,  our  people  can  be  trusted,"  Elder 
Willard  continued.  "The  President  of  the  United 
States  and  Congress  will  yet  find  out  that  the  crook  of 
Brother  Brigham's  little  finger  is  more  powerful  with 
the  people  than  federal  enactments,  the  decisions  of 
courts  of  justice,  or  than  the  threatenings  of  military 
force." 

"But  the  government  at  Washington  is  not  contem- 
plating armed  interference!"  exclaimed  Brand, 
aghast  at  the  suggestion. 

"The  pretense  is  the  safety  of  travelers  and  the  pro- 
tection of  property,"  Willard  replied  bitterly.  "It's 
all  a  pretense,  of  course.  But  our  enemies  have  never 
forgotten  their  vindictive  hatred  of  our  people.  Have 
you  forgotten?  Have  we  not,  from  the  beginning, 
been    subject  to    every  violence   and    outrage?     Were 

101 


•BY' ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

we  not  driven  from  Ohio,  Missouri,  and  Illinois? 
Was  not  our  prophet,  Joseph,  compelled  to  fight  his 
enemies  during  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  until  he 
was  finally  martyred  through  their  hellish  malignity? 
Were  we  not  driven  from  our  peaceful  homes  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet  and  compelled  to  seek  our  for- 
tunes in  the  great  wilderness  lying  to  the  westward? 
Was  not  your  own  father  murdered  in  defense  of  the 
temple  city,  Nauvoo?  Do  not  forget  that  this  nation 
has  not  experienced  a  change  of  heart  toward  the 
Saints  of  God." 

Brand  was  thoroughly  aroused.  He  realized  that 
there  was  a  sterner  battle  before  them  than  any  they 
had  yet  waged.  He  reached  forward  and  took  Elder 
Willard  by  the  hand. 

"The  commands  of  the  church  were  sufficient,  but 
now  my  heart  is  with  you,  and  I  stay  gladly." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Willard.  "I  have  not  doubted 
you.  Your  loyalty  is  well  known.  But  now  there  is 
another  thing.  I  have  never  been  quite  in  harmony 
with  the  policy  of  evasions  and  denials  that  has  been 
followed  all  these  years." 

Brand  flushed  a  little,  but  returned  his  look  steadily. 

"We  have  declared  to  the  world  our  faith  in  the 
prophet  Joseph,"  Willard  continued.  "We  have 
announced  that  he  was  commissioned  to  uncover  some 
startling  truths.  We  have  not  preached  these  truths 
openly.  We  have  reserved  them  to  be  cautiously 
unfolded  to  our  converts,  only  after  they  have  become 
thoroughly  established  and  committed.  The  plan  has 
worked  well  in  the  past,  I  admit,  but  I  believe  the  time 
is  ripe  for  the  adoption  of  a  bolder  policy.  Advices 
from  Salt  Lake  indicate  that  President  Young  is  coming 

102 


AMBITIOUS       PROJECTS 

to  the  same  opinion.    'My  impression  is  that  we  will  soon 
be  ordered  to  make  known  the  whole  counsel  of  God." 

Brand  was  considerably  startled.  He  thought  back 
over  his  past  missionary  experiences.  A  flashing 
picture  of  Carissa  came  before  him.  His  instincts  and 
acquired  habits  of  thought  forced  a  remonstrance. 

"But  will  not  such  a  course  rob  us  of  all  chance  of 
gaining  a  hearing?  And  will  not  the  abrupt  change  in 
policy  cause  many  who  are  not  fully  grounded,  to  turn 
back  again?" 

"It  will  probably  be  a  year  or  more  before  the 
change  is  inaugurated,"  Elder  Willard  replied.  "But 
it  must  come  soon." 

There  was  a  quiet  smile  of  sarcasm  upon  his  lips 
that  Brand  could  not  immediately  interpret.  As  he 
sought  to  force  his  understanding,  there  came  to  his 
mind  certain  esoteric  teachings  of  the  great  prophet 
that  had  been  whispered  about  in  old  Xauvoo,  and 
certain  arguments  b}'  which  these  teachings  had  been 
reinforced.  He  recalled  that  these  teachings  had  been 
the  basis  of  repeated  charges  against  the  prophet 
Joseph's  character.  So  fierce  had  been  the  storm  of 
opposition  aroused,  that  the  missionaries  had  been 
instructed  to  give  them  emphatic  denial.  Surely  these 
were  not  the  things  that  were  to  be  given  out!  It  was 
incredible,  that,  after  all  these  years,  the  veil  of 
secrecy  and  denial  was  to  be  removed  concerning  t/iis 
matter  that  would  create  such  unfailing  prejudice 
everj^vhere.  He  again  thought  of  Carissa,  and  by  an 
effort  of  will  dismissed  the  sinister  suggestion.  He 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  closing  his  eyes  to  certain 
things  in  the  conduct  of  the  leaders  of  his  people  and 
this  habit  helped  him. 

103 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Elder  Willard  had  been  studying  him  closely  during 
this  brief  mental  debate,  and  now  spoke  with  an  air  of 
carelessness. 

"You  say  that  some  who  have  been  won  under  the 
old  preaching  may  turn  back.  If  true,  it  is  simply  an 
additional  reason  for  hastening  the  gathering  to  a  place 
where  they  can  assimilate  the  doctrines  of  the  church 
more  quickly.  When  they  have  once  crossed  the 
mountains,  they  will  not  turn  back." 

Again  that  smile  of  quiet  amusement  came  upon  his 
thin  lips,  but  passed  as  quickly. 

"After  all,"  he  continued,  "I  think  you  are  mis- 
taken in  your  fears  of  a  general  apostasy.  Those  who 
have  been  won  thus  far  are  not  from  among  those  who 
will  make  nice  distinctions  in  points  of  theology.  They 
will  take  the  Bible  as  it  is  expounded  to  them,  and 
will  turn  to  the  Book  of  Mormon  and  the  Doctrines 
and  Covenants  for  further  enlightenment." 

Brand  smiled  appreciatively. 

"That  is  probably  true  as  far  as  the  majority  is  con- 
cerned," he  said,  "but  are  we  now  to  change  the  char- 
acter of  our  preaching?" 

"No,  not  yet!  I  have  no  instructions.  But  you 
must  set  forth  with  all  your  power  the  divine  authority 
of  the  prophet  Joseph  and  of  the  holy  priesthood,  for 
a  foundation  for  what  is  coming;  urge  also  the  imme- 
diate gathering  to  Zion  of  all  those  who  would  escape 
the  curse  that  is  about  to  be  hurled  upon  a  rebellious 
and  disbelieving  world.  The  fight  is  on,  Brother 
Brand,  and  we  must  be  ready.  Great  things  are  being 
done  yonder  in  Zion,  and  the  hearts  of  all  men  will  soon 
warn  them  of  the  impending  judgments  of  the  Lord." 

"I  shall  be  ready."  Brand  answered  firmly. 

104 


CHAPTER    XI 

FIRST  PRINCIPLES 

The  home  of  the  Brands,  in  New  York,  was  originally 
a  farm  of  considerable  extent,  surrounding  a  large, 
substantial  but  unpretentious  stone  house  looking 
toward  the  Hudson.  It  had  been  encroached  upon, 
however,  by  the  growth  of  the  city,  until,  in  1852,  it 
looked  strangely  out  of  place,  with  its  aspect  of  staid, 
old-fashioned  respectability  and  seclusion,  in  the 
midst  of  the  modern  dwellings  and  business  houses 
that  were  rapidly  hemming  it  in  on  every  side.  The 
original  acres  of  field  and  fruit  orchard  had  disap- 
peared, even  during  the  lifetime  of  old  Charlton 
Brand,  Eaton's  father.  Now  the  old  house  stood  as  a 
bit  of  anachronism  on  a  narrow  back  street,  while  the 
space  to  the  north  and  south,  as  well  as  between  it  and 
the  river,  was  filled  with  evidence  of  the  throbbing  life 
of  a  city,  that  already  was  taking  its  place  as  one  of 
the  great  commercial  and  distributing  centers  of  the 
world. 

To  this  house,  still  quaintly  old-fashioned  in  its 
interior  arrangements  and  furnishings,  Eaton  Brand 
brought  his  wife.  Carissa  received  what  she  afterward 
learned  was  a  characteristic  greeting  from  Mr.  Brand's 
mother,  affectionate  but  impersonal,  warm  but  devoid 
of  fuss  or  curiosity. 

"You  are  welcome,  dearie.  You  must  be  tired.  We 
have  expected  you,  and  are  glad  you  have  come." 

105 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


Her  arrival  made  no  change  in  domestic  arrange- 
ments. She  was  evidently  expected  to  fill  the  cozy 
nook  that  had  long  been  prepared  for  her  in  this  quiet 
home.  She  had  a  curious  feeling  that  if  she  had  come 
several  years  earlier  or  later,  or  if  she  had  been  an 
entirely  different  person,  it  would  have  made  no 
difference. 

Old  ]\Irs.  Brand  was  quiet,  uninterested  in  anything 
outside  her  home,  but  possessed  the  rare  touch  of  a 
genuine  housekeeper,  that  imparted  a  delightful  air  of 
snug  homeliness  to  her  surroundings. 

Carissa  was  charmed,  although  she  had  an  indefi- 
nable sense  of  self-effacement.  She  found  that  she 
had  no  duties  to  perform,  and  that  the  long  hours  of 
the  day  were  at  her  free  disposal. 

"You  must  be  happy  here,"  Brand  said  to  her,  ten- 
derly. "This  will  be  our  home  for  a  few  months.  I 
may  be  absent  part  of  the  time,  but  it  will  be  a  delight 
to  think  of  coming  back  to  you." 

She  tried  to  conceal  the  disappointment  that  she 
felt  because  they  were  not  going  west  at  once. 

"Will  it  be  long?"  she  asked,  wistfully.  "And  what 
am  I  to  do,  dear,  while  you  are  away?  You  will  not 
want  me  to  be  idle." 

He  smiled  upon  her  indulgently.  "And  so  you  must 
do  your  share!  Is  that  it?  But  are  you  quite  ready, 
dearest?  You  must  play  the  part  of  pupil  a  little 
longer,  I  think.  Do  you  quite  realize  that  these  peo- 
ple would  look  at  you  coldly?  Ply  you  with  hard 
questions?  Even  assail  you  with  abuse?  No,  dearest, 
I  cannot  run  the  risk  for  you." 

"Very  well,  darling;  you  know  best,"  she  said,  with 
a  brave  smile.     But  her  spirit  was  touched  with  sad- 

106 


FIRST       PRINCIPLES 


ness.  Somehow,  her  instinct  told  her  that  her  spiritual 
health  ran  along  lines  of  activity. 

One  day  she  received  a  caller,  a  trim  little  woman 
with  a  round,  resolute  face,  dark  eyes  and  an  air  of 
quiet  decision. 

"I  am  the  wife  of  the  Methodist  minister,  Mr. 
Allen.  Our  church  is  just  around  the  corner.  We 
heard  of  your  arrival,  and  I  called  to  invite  you  to  our 
services." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,"  Carissa  replied,  hesitat- 
ingly, "and  I  am  sure  you  mean  your  invitation  kindly, 
but  my  husband  is  an  Elder  of  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  I " 

"Are  you  really  Mormons,  then?"  interrupted  her 
visitor,  with  a  look  of  pitying  surprise.  "The  rumor 
has  gone  all  over  the  neighborhood,  but  I  didn't 
believe  it.  Last  night  Mr.  Allen  and  I  walked  past, 
and  when  I  saw  you  under  the  trees,  I  said  that  it 
couldn't  be  true." 

Carissa  flushed. 

"Why  should  it  not  be  true?"  she  answered,  with  a 
certain  reserve. 

"Why?  You  don't  look  like  a  Mormon.  Nor  does 
your  husband,  and  I  can't  believe  it  yet." 

"We  are  called  Mormons,"  began  Carissa.   "But " 

"Well,  I  never!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Allen,  and  looked 
as  though  she  were  wondering  how  she  could  close  the 
interview.     "Of  course  if  I  had  believed  it " 

"You  would  not  have  called?"  said  Carissa,  quietly. 
"I  am  sorry.     Sorry  for  you." 

"Why  is  it  that  we  Mormons  meet  with  such  hatred 
and  persecution?  My  husband  is  now  on  a  preaching 
tour  in  a  so-called  Christian  community,  and  I  do  not 

107 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

know  whether  he  is  being  mobbed  or  not,  or  whether 
he  will  return  to  me  bearing  the  marks  of  violence. 
Is  not  the  spirit  of  Christ  lacking  where  such  things 
can  be?" 

There  was  a  ring  of  sincerity  in  her  speech  that  won 
her  visitor's  heart.  Mrs.  Allen  impulsively  stepped 
forward  and  extended  her  hand. 

"My  dear,  I'm  sure  you  are  a  good  woman,  no  mat- 
ter what  they  say  about  your  people.  I  don't  like  to 
have  your  doctrines  preached,  because  I  believe  them 
harmful,  but  I  don't  believe  in  persecution,  and  I  do 
believe  in  Christian  charity.  Can  I  come  and  see  you 
sometimes?" 

Carissa  was  finding  this  woman's  gentleness  harder 
to  face  than  opposition  would  have  been.  She  felt 
how  imperfectly  she  was  equipped  for  missionary 
effort.     Suddenly  she  remembered: 

"I  wish  you  would  come,"  she  answered,  frankly. 
"But  bring  your  husband,  and  come  when  Mr.  Brand 
is  at  home.  I  think  you  do  not  understand  us,  and  I 
want  him  to  explain." 

Mrs.  Allen  hesitated  a  moment,  but  the  invitation  of 
Carissa's  confident  face  was  irresistible,  her  curiosity 
was  aroused,  and  she  finally  broke  into  a  little  laugh. 

"Yes,  we  will  come.  But  will  you  not  be  afraid 
when  two  men  get  into  controversy  on  a  religious 
topic?" 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Carissa,  quite  seriously. 
"Besides,  we  women  shall  be  there,  ready  with  the 
oil  of  charity  for  troubled  waters." 

"You,  dear,  sweet  young  thing.  You  are  no  more 
meant  for  a  missionary  than  for  a  kangaroo.  Yes, 
we'll    come.      Good-day."     And    Mrs.    Allen  trotted 

108 


FIRST       PRINCIPLES 

out  of  the  room,  while  Carissa  did  not  know  whether 
to  laugh  or  cry. 

When  Brand  returned  she  told  him  of  the  visit. 

"So  }'ou  are  inviting  conflict,  are  you?"  he  said, 
playfully.  "But  such  a  meeting  can  have  no  good 
result.  Our  bitterest  opponents  are  the  clergy.  They 
are  dependent  for  their  living  on  pushing  their  own 
churches,  and  are  very  jealous  of  the  inroads  we  make 
upon  their  flocks." 

"But  ]\Irs.  Allen  will  understand,"  interrupted 
Carissa.  "She  seems  so  good  and  kind  and  gentle. 
She  said  that  she  did  not  believe  in  persecution.  Per- 
haps she  has  never  had  the  truth  explained  to  her." 

"If  they  come,  dearest,  believe  me  I  will  not  avoid 
the  issue.  But  do  not  expect  too  much.  It  is  sel- 
dom that  a  sectarian  minister  has  a  mind  at  all  hos- 
pitable to  the  truth." 

It  was  several  evenings  later  when  I\Ir.  and  Mrs. 
Allen  called.  As  the  two  gentlemen  shook  hands, 
Mr.  Allen  laughingly  remarked: 

"It  seems  that  these  ladies  have  arranged  for  a  con- 
troversy, but  really,  sir,  I  do  not  come  seeking  one. 
I  am  but  slightly  familiar  with  your  beliefs,  and  the 
checkered  history  of  your  people.  I  come  only 
because  my  wife  has  insisted.  I  will  confess  to  strong 
prejudices,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  anything  you  might 
say  will  remove  them." 

"Your  statement  is  certainly  a  frank  one,"  said 
Brand.  He  was  studying  his  visitor  carefully,  and 
felt  that  the  only  result  to  be  aimed  at  was  to  come  off 
victor  in  the  eyes  of  Carissa. 

"I  seldom  attempt  to  remove  deep-seated  prejudice. 
I  haven't  the  time,"  he  added  calmly. 

109 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"But,  Mr.  Brand,"  said  Mrs.  Allen,  "we  want  to 
hear  a  statement  of  what  you  preach.  There  are  so 
many  rumors,  you  know." 

"I  do  not  think  you  will  be  startled,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing, "and  it  pleases  me  that  you  do  not  seek  the 
information  from  our  enemies.  We  preach  faith, 
repentance,  baptism  by  immersion  for  the  remission  of 
sins,  the  laying  on  of  hands  for  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  obedience  to  all  the  ordinances  of  the 
Gospel." 

"That  certainly  sounds  very  harmless,"  remarked 
Mr.  Allen,  dryly.  "You  speak  of  faith,  but  what 
must  a  man  believe,  according  to  your  doctrine?" 

"All  of  divine  truth  that  has  been  revealed,  all  that 
is  being  revealed,  and  all  that  shall  yet  be  revealed," 
quoted  Mr.  Brand,  sententiously. 

"Your  answer  allows  considerable  latitude  for  indi- 
vidual judgment,  Mr.  Brand,  and  I  understand  that 
your  definition  of  the  'ordinances  of  the  gospel' 
includes  some  very  strange  observances,  utterly 
unknown  to  the  Christian  world.  For  example,  do 
you  not  believe  in  a  new  Bible,  called  the  Book  of 
Mormon,  and  in  certain  revelations  claimed  to  be 
received  by  Joseph  Smith,  that  contradict  the  teach- 
ings of  the  New  Testament?" 

"We  claim,  sir,  that  the  ancient  scriptures  of  the 
Nephites  and  the  revelations  received  by  Joseph  the 
Seer  do  not  contradict  the  Bible,  but  only  serve  to 
clarify  its  teachings  and  consequently  to  increase  its 
authority." 

"In  what  respect?"  queried  his  visitor,  lifting  his 
eyebrows. 

"In  the  matter  of  administering  the  ordinances  of 

110 


FIRST       PRINCIPLES 

God,  with  reference  also  to  the  constitution  of  the 
church  and  the  authority  of  the  holy  priesthood  and 
many  other  things  that  pertain  to  life  and  salvation." 

"That  subject  would  form  matter  for  endless  con- 
troversy, I  fear,  Mr.  Brand,"  commented  his  visitor. 
"But,  pardon  the  personal  allusion,  you  are  a  man  of 
ability  and  education,  and  your  wife  is  a  woman  of 
intelligence  and  refinement;  it  seems  strange  that  you 
should  believe  in  such  an  absurd  thing  as  this  pre- 
tended new  revelation  and  should  be  the  followers  of 
a  fanatical  impostor." 

Mr.  Allen  was  somewhat  heated,  and  spoke  impul- 
sively. Carissa  flushed  angrily,  and  turned  her  eyes 
to  her  husband. 

"So  might  a  Jew  have  spoken  to  a  Christian  in  the 
days  of  Paul,"  he  answered,  readily. 

"How  so?" 

"The  Jew  continued  to  revere  the  law  of  Jehovah 
when  it  had  become  a  mere  letter.  He  cherished  the 
traditions  of  Abraham,  Moses,  Elijah  and  the 
prophets,  though  he  had  modified  them  to  suit  the 
conditions  of  his  day;  he  was  convicted  of  apostasy 
and  required  to  accept  a  new  revelation  of  truth.  In 
retaliation  he  charged  the  Christians  with  being  fol- 
lowers of  a  fanatical  impostor,  and  persecuted  them 
with  religious  zeal." 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,  that  the  parallel  cannot  be  estab- 
lished." 

"Let  us  see.  Look  at  the  picture  of  the  Jewish 
community  of  that  time,  and  see  how  perfectly  it  fits 
the  Christian  community  of  to-day. 

"The  ancient  glory  of  the  Hebrew  people  had 
departed,    the    voice    of    revelation    was    silent,    the 

111 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


prophets  had  ceased  to  prophesy,  the  power  to  per- 
form miracles  had  been  taken  away,  God  had  with- 
drawn Himself  from  the  church,  and  religious  forms 
were  no  longer  vitalized  by  the  presence  of  the  super- 
natural. There  were  still  many  rabbis,  profoundly 
learned,  who  enunciated  well-worn  dogmas,  adorning 
them  with  all  that  was  lofty  in  thought,  sublime  in 
language,  and  fascinating  in  imagination;  they  pos- 
sessed beautiful  synagogues  and  elaborate  forms  of 
worship;  they  practiced  extensive  charities,  published 
commentaries  and  renderings  and  interpretations, 
some  fanciful  and  frivolous,  some  profound  and  erudite; 
but  they  were  broken  by  sectarian  strife;  and  because 
the  spirit  of  God  had  departed,  and  they  were  depend- 
ent upon  human  leadership,  they  knew  not  where  to 
turn  to  find  the  true  way.  You  are  familiar  with  the 
seven  sects  of  the  Pharisees,  three  or  four  of  Essenes, 
Sadducees,  and  others  too  numerous  to  mention;  and 
this  is  but  a  feeble  picture  of  the  Christianity  of 
to-day,  a  hundredfold  more  sectarian  and  jarring  than 
were  the  Jews  at  the  time  of  our  Lord." 

Mr.  Allen  was  unprepared  to  refute  this  historic 
parallel.  He  contented  himself  with  saying,  cour- 
teously: 

"I  grant  you  that  the  church  of  Christ  is  divided 
into  many  denominations,  but  in  each  the  vital  truth 
of  Christianity  still  resides." 

'The  vital  truth  of  God  has  been  and  ever  will  be 
this:  that  an  open  channel  of  communication  exists 
between  Him  and  His  church  on  earth,"  Brand  asserted. 
"When  that  is  closed,  old  revelations  become  ante- 
dated, obscured  and  perverted.  For  seventeen  cen- 
turies men  have  been  trusting  to  their  own  devices;  the 

112 


FIRST       PRINCIPLES 

Gospel  of  Christ  submitted  to  receive  a  veneer  of 
paganism,  and  was  lost  to  men  in  the  process." 

"But  the  church  has  had  its  reformers  who  tore  off 
this  veneer,"  protested  Mr.  Allen. 

"Yes,  like  the  reformers  of  the  Hebrew  people,  but 
there  has  soon  been  substitution  of  some  new  man- 
made  contrivance.  Without  the  open  vision  of  God 
the  church  cannot  be  trusted  to  guard  its  own  treasure. 
He  whom  you  contemptuously  style  a  fanatical 
impostor,  had  this  open  vision.  He  received  constant 
revelation  of  the  divine  will,  and  by  it  guided  the 
newly  established  church." 

"But  people  affirm  that  Joseph  Smith  was  of  unbal- 
anced mind,  unscrupulous,  clever  and  daring,  but  evil 
in  his  character  and  life." 

"Pious  men  who  prayed  often  and  fasted  frequently 
affirmed  that  Jesus  and  His  followers  were  foul  im- 
postors, vile  Sabbath  breakers,  gluttons,  wine-bibbers, 
treasonable  persons  not  fit  to  live.  Do  you  judge 
Jesus  by  the  testimony  of  His  enemies?  No,  you  judge 
His  character  and  His  works  by  the  testimony  of 
friends.  Pursue  the  same  judgment  toward  Joseph 
Smith,  and  the  issue  is  triumph." 

"You  speak  well,  Mr.  Brand,  but  let  me  ask  you, — 
did  your  prophet  teach  the  doctrine  of  the  plurality 
of  wives?  Do  your  people  secretly  practice  polygamy? 
It  has  been  so  charged  by  public  men  who  claim  to 
know,  and  who  have  reiterated  the  charge  again  and 
again." 

Brand  hesitated,  as  if  in  weariness  at  the  repeated 
necessity  of  repelling  false  and  malicious  accusations. 
He  rose  from  his  seat.  Carissa  watched  him  with 
love,  while  admiration  and   confidence  beamed  froni 

113 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

her  eyes.     She  had  heard   him   reply  to  this   charge 
before. 

He  turned  to  the  table  on  which  lay  the  Book  of 
Doctrines  and  Covenants. 

"It  is  true  that  we  have  been  accused  of  actions  the 
most  indelicate  and  disgusting,"  he  said.  "I  have 
not  the  patience  to  deny  them.  Here  is  a  work  pub- 
lished by  us  and  containing  our  articles  of  faith." 

He  turned  to  a  certain  page  and  handed  the  open 
book  to  his  visitor,  who  took  it  and  read  aloud: 

"  'Inasmuch  as  this  church  of  Christ  has  been 
reproached  with  the  crime  of  fornication  and  polyg- 
amy, we  declare  that  we  believe,  that  one  man 
should  have  07ie  wife,  and  one  woman  but  one  hus- 
band, except  in  case  of  death,  when  either  is  at  lib- 
erty to  marry  again.' 

'That  seems  clear  enough,"  said  ]\Ir.  Allen,  after 
reading  the  dubious  words,  and  not  observing  their 
ambiguous  meaning.  "But  how  comes  it  that  the  charge 
is  made  so  often?  Until  Joseph  Smith  began  to  gather 
his  people  about  him,  and  form  settlements,  and 
develop  his  own  peculiar  ideas  of  social  life,  the  word 
'polygamy'  was  as  little  used  as  the  word  'poly- 
andry,' but  now  it  is  in  everyone's  mouth  in  connec- 
tion with  the  'Latter  Day  Saints,'  as  you  are  called." 

"It  is  a  long  stor}^  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Brand, 
promptly,  with  considerable  stiffness  in  his  manner. 
"And  it  is  a  story  not  very  creditable  to  our  oppo- 
nents. When  we  defeat  them  in  argument,  their 
malice  resorts  to  slander;  they  build  up  on  every  idle, 
whispered  word  of  malcontents  and  perjured  apostates. 
They  have  driven  us  from  city  to  city,  and  now  that 
we  have  found  a  secure  resting  place  on  the  tops  of  the 

114 


p    I    R    S    T       PRINCIPLES 

mountains,  they  seek  to  poison  the  minds  of  those 
whom  we  would  reach,  by  circulating  the  vilest  calum- 
nies  concerning  us.  But  it  shall  not  be  for  long,^  he 
concluded,  with  startling  emphasis.  "The  time  is  at 
hand  when  God  shall  open  the  vials  of  wrath  against 
these  Iving  deceivers,  and  when  the  truth  that  has 
been  committed  to  us  shall  shine  forth  gloriously.'' 

Mr.  Allen  was  silenced  completely  by  this  bold 
denial,  but,  as  they  took  their  departure  a  little  later 
he  said  to  his  wife:  "That  man  is  dangerous  because  of 
his  plausibility  and  boldness,  as  well  as  on  account  of 
his  theories.  But  I  am  sorry  for  his  wife,  she  seems 
to  believe  everything  he  says." 

When  the  Aliens  had  gone,  Brand  continued  to  pace 
the  floor  uneasily.  Suddenly  he  picked  up  the  book 
that  he  had  handed  to  his  visitor,  and  read  again  the 
words  slowly  and  carefully. 

"What  is'troubling  you,  dear?"  said  Carissa,  coming 
to  him  and  placing  her  hand  lovingly  on  his  arm. 

"Nothing  at  all,"  he  answered,  closing  the  book 
and  turning  to  her  with  an  appearance  of  frankness. 
•T  am  just  growing  a  little  weary  of  staying  on  here  in 
the  east;  of  having  to  meet  continually  this  hostility, 

this  bitter  criticism." 

"You  are  tired,  dear,"  she  said,  gently  and  sooth- 
ingly. "I  shall  insist  upon  your  taking  some  ^rest. 
You  must  give  up  some  of  these  preaching  tours." 

But  he  shook  his  head,  and  an  expression  that  was 
almost  fierce  came  into  his  face. 

"No,  the  battle  is  on,  and  I  will  not  be  found  want- 
ing I  was  wrong  to  yield  to  depression  even  for  a 
moment.  But  it  is  good  to  feel  your  tender  sympathy, 
and  to  know  that;w  can  never  be  shaken." 

115 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

He  held  her  away  from  him  and  studied  her  face 
questioningly,  then  drew  her  into  his  arms  and  held 
her  close. 

A  few  days  later,  when  Brand  was  absent,  Mrs. 
Allen  called  and  handed  Carissa  a  copy  of  the  Book 
of  Mormon. 

"Mr.  Allen  has  marked  this  book  for  you.  He 
wants  you  to  promise  to  read  the  passages  underscored 
and  the  comments  he  has  made.     Will  you  do  it?" 

Carissa  hesitated,  she  wondered  what  could  be  his 
object. 

"It  is  the  first  edition  of  the  book  that  you  claim 
came  from  God.  Surely  you  are  not  unwilling  to  read 
and  judge  for  yourself?"  her  visitor  urged. 

"I  will  read  it,"  said  Carissa,  gravely,  although 
there  was  an  element  of  distrust  in  her  heart. 

Brand  had  already  taught  her  to  regard  this  book  as 
of  equal  authority  with  the  Bible,  but  she  had  never 
read  it,  except  when  he  was  present  to  explain  its 
meaning. 

Now,  as  she  set  herself  to  the  task,  a  sense  of 
wrong-doing  oppressed  her;  for  on  the  margins  every- 
where she  found  terse  pencilings,  calling  attention  to 
the  crudities,  extravagances,  absurdities  and  contra- 
dictions that  everywhere  abounded. 

In  spite  of  herself  the  thought  began  to  take  shape 
that  this  book  was  simply  a  clumsy  imitation  of  the 
Bible,  verbose  and  stupid,  composed  by  one  whose 
irreverence  was  only  equaled  by  his  ignorance  and 
conceit. 

Her  own  reading  had  been  sufficiently  good  for  her 
to  recognize  the  absurd  inconsistencies  and  inac- 
curacies that  were  brought  to  her  notice. 

116 


FIRST       PRINCIPLES 

She  was  pained  and  shocked  at  the  startling  contrast 
between  the  short,  incisive,  pertinent  sentences  of 
Jesus  as  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  and  the  labored, 
clumsy  and  vapid  utterances  attributed  to  Him  in  the 
book  she  was  reading. 

"And  behold,  this  is  the  thing  which  I  will  give 
unto  you  for  a  sign,  for  verily  I  say  unto  you,  that 
when  these  things  which  I  declare  unto  you  and  which 
I  shall  declare  unto  you  hereafter  of  myself,  and  by 
the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  shall  be  given 
unto  you  of  the  Father,  shall  be  made  known  unto  the 
Gentiles,  that  they  may  know  concerning  this  people, 
who  are  a  remnant  of  the  house  of  Jacob,  and  concern- 
ing this  my  people,  who  shall  be  scattered  by  them; 
verily,  verily  I  say  unto  you,  when  these  things  shall 
be  made  known  unto  them  of  the  Father,  and  shall 
come  forth  of  the  Father,  from  them  unto  you,  for  it 
is  wisdom  in  the  Father  that  they  should  be  established 
in  this  land,  and  be  set  up  as  a  free  people  by  the 
power  of  the  Father,  that  these  things  might  come 
forth  from  them  unto  a  remnant  of  your  seed,  that  the 
covenant  of  the  Father  may  be  fulfilled  which  he  has 
covenanted  with  his  people,  O  house  of  Israel;  there- 
fore, when  these  works,  and  the  works  which  shall  be 
wrought  among  you  hereafter,  shall  come  forth  from 
the  Gentiles  unto  your  seed,  which  shall  dwindle  in 
unbelief  because  of  iniquity;  for  thus  it  behooveth  the 
Father  that  it  should  come  forth  from  the  Gentiles, 
that  he  may  show  forth  his  power  unto  the  Gentiles, 
for  this  cause,  that  the  Gentiles,  if  they  will  not  harden 
their  hearts,  that  they  may  repent  and  come  unto  me, 
and  be  baptized  in  my  name,  and  know  of  the  true 
points   of  my  doctrine,   that   they  may  be   numbered 

117 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

among  my  people,  O  house  of  Israel;  and  when  these 
things  come  to  pass,  that  thy  seed  shall  begin  to  know 
these  things,  it  shall  be  a  sign  unto  them,  that  they 
may  know  that  the  work  of  the  Father  hath  already 
commenced,  unto  the  fulfilling  of  the  covenant  which 
he  hath  made  unto  the  people  who  are  of  the  house  of 
Israel." 

"And  Jesus  again  showed  himself  unto  them,  for 
they  were  praying  unto  the  Father,  in  his  name;  and 
Jesus  came  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  them  and  saith 
unto  them,  what  will  ye  that  I  shall  give  unto  you? 
And  they  said  unto  him,  Lord,  we  will  that  thou 
wouldst  tell  us  the  name  whereby  we  shall  call  this 
church;  for  there  are  disputations  among  the  people 
concerning  this  matter.  And  the  Lord  said  unto 
them,  verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  why  is  it  the 
people  should  murmur  and  dispute  because  of  this 
thing?  have  they  not  read  the  scriptures,  which  say  ye 
must  take  upon  you  the  name  of  Christ,  which  is  my 
name?  for  by  this  name  shall  ye  be  called  at  the  last 
day;  and  whoso  taketh  upon  him  my  name,  and  endur- 
eth  to  the  end,  the  same  shall  be  saved  at  the  last  day; 
therefore  whatsoever  ye  shall  do,  ye  shall  do  it  in  my 
name;  therefore  ye  shall  call  the  church  in  my  name; 
and  ye  shall  call  upon  the  Father  in  my  name,  that 
he  will  bless  the  church  for  my  sake;  and  how  be  it 
my  church,  save  it  be  called  in  my  name?  for  if  a 
church  be  called  in  Moses'  name,  then  it  be  Moses' 
church;  or  if  it  be  called  in  the  name  of  a  man,  then 
it  be  the  church  of  a  man;  but  if  it  be  called  in  my 
name,  then  it  is  my  church,  if  it  so  be  that  they  are 
built  upon  my  gospel.  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  that  ye 
are   built  upon   my  gospel;    therefore    ye    shall    cal! 

118 


FIRST       PRINCIPLES 

whatsoever  things  ye  do  in  my  name;  therefore  if  ye 
call  upon  the  Father,  for  the  church,  if  it  be  in  my 
name,  the  Father  will  hear  you;  and  if  it  so  be  that 
the  church  is  built  upon  my  gospel,  then  will  the 
Father  show  forth  his  own  works  in  it;  but  if  it  be  not 
built  upon  my  gospel,  and  is  built  upon  the  works  of 
men,  or  upon  the  works  of  the  devil,  verily  I  say  unto 
you,  they  have  joy  in  their  works  for  a  season,  and  by 
and  by  the  end  cometh  and  they  are  hewn  down  and 
cast  into  the  fire,  from  whence  there  is  no  return;  for 
their  works  do  follow  them,  for  it  is  because  of  their 
works  that  they  are  hewn  down,  therefore  remember 
the  things  that  I  have  told  you." 

For  a  long  time  she  read,  as  one  bound  by  her 
promise,  finding  her  attention  continually  called  to  ex- 
amples of  execrable  grammar  and  ridiculous  compo- 
sition. 

"Yea,  if  my  days  could  have  been  in  them  days," 
she  read,  "but,  behold,  I  am  consigned  that  these  are 
my  days." 

"And  they  having  been  waxed  strong  in  battle,  that 
they  might  not  be  destroyed." 

"Even  until  they  had  arriven  to  the  land  of  Mid- 
doni." 

"Now  when  Ammon  and  his  brethren  saw  this  work 
of  destruction  among  those  who  they  so  dearly  be- 
loved, and  among  those  who  had  so  dearly  beloved 
them." 

"He  went  forth  among  the  people,  waving  the  rent 
of  his  garment  in  the  air,  that  all  might  see  the  writing 
which  he  had  wrote  upon  the  rent." 

These  were  a  few  of  the  gems  of  inspiration  which 
she    read,    and   she    found   them    distinctly    amusing. 

119 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


But,  of  a  sudden,  her  mental  attitude  flashed  upon  her, 
and  she  flung  the  book  from  her.  It  fell  upon  the 
floor— her  Holy  Book!  With  a  half  articulate  cry, 
she  rose,  picked  it  up,  and  put  it  reverently  on  the 
table.  This,  then,  was  the  net  spread  for  her  by  her 
enemies.  And  she  had  fallen  into  it — disloyally,  pre- 
sumptuously, wickedly,  had  fallen  into  it!  Her  con- 
science smote  her.  Not  until  evening  came,  and  she 
had  told  it  all  to  her  husband,  and  had  heard  his 
soothing  words,  was  she  comforted. 

"Dearest,  it  is  God's  Word  brought  to  us  in  the  lan- 
guage of  ignorant  men  who  lived  and  suffered  ages 
ago.  Your  friends  are  false  friends  who  would  poison 
your  peace.  We  will  read  these  books  together,  and 
you  will  find  them  full  of  inspiration  for  pure  thinking 
and  noble  living." 

When  Mrs.  Allen  called  again,  Carissa  denied  her- 
self to  her  visitor,  and  returned  the  book  that  had 
been,  in  her  eyes,  so  terribly  perverted  by  a  sacri- 
legious touch. 


120 


CHAPTER   XII 

A    CRY    IN    THE    NIGHT 

Brand's  intercourse  with  Elder  Willard  during  the 
long  winter  months  was  not  without  its  influence  on 
his  character.  It  served  as  a  wholesome  balance 
against  his  tendency  to  yield  too  fully  to  Carissa's 
point  of  view.  After  a  day  spent  in  the  bracing  com- 
panionship of  this  clear-headed,  keen-witted  exponent 
of  practical  Mormonism,  he  marveled  at  himself  that 
he  had  made  no  greater  headway  in  modifying  the 
ideal  conceptions  that  he  had  unwittingly  implanted 
in  her  mind  by  invoking  the  picture  of  primitive 
Christianity.  Her  idea  of  primitive  Christianity  had 
proved  very  different  from  his  own.  She  assented  to 
much  that  he  set  before  her,  but  the  tenacity  with 
which  she  clung  to  her  preconceived  ideas  of  the 
essential  spirit  of  Christianity  prevented  her  from 
grasping  its  real  significance.  Yet  how  could  he  unde- 
ceive her?  Once  or  twice  he  attempted  to  brutally 
shatter  her  paganized  dreams  of  a  spiritual  kingdom 
by  reading  to  her  from  Apostle  Pratt's  essays  on  "The 
Kingdom  of  God,"  and  "Absurdities  of  Immaterial- 
ism,"  but  her  startled  look  of  incredulity  and  her 
immediate  protest  of  rejection  warned  him  that  such 
forceful  presentation  of  the  doctrine  he  held  was, 
as  yet,  premature. 

"Her  mind  is  not  logically  constructed,"  he 
thought.  "It  is  rather  a  channel  for  the  outward  play 
of  feelings  and  emotions." 

121 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

And  he  tried  to  be  content  with  simply  leading  her 
sympathies  into  association  with  the  plans  and  strug- 
gles of  her  adopted  people. 

"There  will  probably  never  be  any  real  necessity  for 
her  to  acquire  a  rational  grasp  upon  our  system  of 
theology,"  he  would  assure  himself,  though  this  assur- 
ance trembled  somewhat  as  he  recalled  his  first  inter- 
view with  Elder  Willard. 

During  these  winter  months  the  gospel  of  "The 
Gathering"  and  of  "The  Authority  of  the  Holy  Priest- 
hood" was  preached  with  great  diligence. 

Under  instructions  received  through  Elder  Willard, 
the  missionaries  of  New  York  and  vicinity  went  forth 
as  a  unit  and  remarkable  success  attended  their  labors. 
They  met  with  bitter  opposition,  they  were  denounced 
by  the  pulpit  and  arraigned  before  the  bar  of  public 
opinion  by  the  press.  Angry  mobs  often  rose  against 
them,  but  nothing  could  check  their  aggressive,  prosely- 
ting spirit.  Two  by  two  they  would  canvass  a  village 
or  city,  going  from  house  to  house,  leaving  tracts, 
holding  private  conversations  and  preaching  wherever 
they  had  opportunity. 

The  majority  of  their  converts  were  among  the 
women,  and  the  men  were  often  further  exasperated 
into  acts  of  violence  by  feeling  that  underhand  meth- 
ods were  being  used. 

If  persecution  and  lively  hatred  could  have  killed  a 
religious  movement,  Mormonism  would  not  have  sur- 
vived its  early  experience.  But  persecution  often 
proved  its  most  valuable  ally.  Where  mobs  arose  to 
disturb  the  meetings  and  to  drive  out  the  Elders,  they 
had  learned  that  the  awakened  interest  and  the  cer- 
tain reaction  would  afford  them  their  opportunity;  as 

122 


A      CRY      IN      THE      NIGHT 

they  preached  openly  nothing  offensive,  and  boldly 
denied  the  truth  of  all  charges  brought  against  them, 
it  was  not  strange  that  many  conversions  should  follow. 

In  these  campaigns  Brand  did  not  spare  himself. 
At  times  he  was  absent  for  weeks,  and  when  he 
returned  he  spoke  of  long  itineraries,  of  the  excite- 
ment of  the  country  people  over  the  new  doctrines, 
of  opposition  from  the  different  sects,  and  of  occa- 
sional bursts  of  religious  enthusiam  that  resulted  in 
many  new  accessions  but  more  often  of  rejection, 
hatred,  scoffing  and  threatened  violence. 

On  one  occasion  Carissa  was  startled  into  a  vivid 
recollection  of  the  first  time  he  had  entered  the  hall- 
way in  her  old  home  in  England,  as  she  saw,  on  his 
return  from  one  of  these  tours,  a  dark  discoloration 
over  the  left  temple  that  brought  out  in  striking  relief 
the  pallor  of  the  clean  shaven  lower  portion  of  the 
face. 

"What  is  it?  What  has  happened?"  she  exclaimed 
in  quick  nervous  alarm. 

"Nothing,  dearest  —  not  now  —  it  is  simply  the 
mark  of  a  blow — it  stunned  me  a  little  at  the  time, 
but  I  spoke  as  well  as  ever  in  the  evening.  That  was 
several  days  ago," 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  heavy  frown  gathered  upon  his 
brow. 

"I  have  said  it  is  nothing.  But  is  it  nothing?  I 
am  safe  it  is  true,  but  our  brethren  everywhere  are 
being  subjected  to  horrible  indignities,"  he  continued 
bitterly,  "For  the  present  we  must  endure,  but  the 
day  is  coming  when  the  Lord  of  Hosts  will  commission 
us  to  give  battle  in  His  name  and  then,  woe  to  those 
that  have  scorned,   ridiculed,  lied  against,  denounced 

123 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

and  rejected  the  message  which  we  bear.  Those  who 
have  poured  abuse  like  a  flood  upon  the  heads  of  the 
innocent  shall  themselves  be  utterly  confounded  and 
overthrown." 

Carissa  had  never  seen  him  in  so  dark  a  mood,  and 
she  sat  silent  with  a  certain  fear  at  her  heart  as  he 
related  with  intense  feeling  the  stories  that  had  come 
to  him  of  atrocities  perpetrated  against  the  Saints. 

Presently,  however,  he  spoke  of  the  increasing 
numbers  of  those  who  were  gathering  to  the  standard 
of  the  church. 

"They  have  been  hardened  by  persecution,"  he  said, 
shaking  off  his  depression,  "and  their  power  is  increas- 
ing with  marvelous  rapidity.  Soon  our  persecutors 
themselves  shall  sue  for  mercy.  Carissa,  there  are 
thousands  that  have  wended  their  way  across  the 
plains  this  season,  alone,  and  there  are  many  thousands 
more  who  are  coming.  We  can  afford  to  endure  for 
a  time,  for  the  day  of  ultimate  triumph  is  not  far 
distant." 

From  this  time  her  thoughts  followed  him  with 
anxiety,  and  she  spent  many  hours  in  prayer  that  God 
would  guide  and  protect  him. 

On  more  than  one  occasion  Brand  had  been 
pursued  by  a  jeering  crowd  almost  to  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  own  home,  but  had  shaken  them  off  and 
had  said  nothing  of  the  circumstance. 

One  beautiful  evening  in  September  over  a  year 
since  their  departure  from  England,  Carissa  walked 
out  to  meet  her  husband  whose  return  she  momently 
expected.  She  was  feeling  languid  and  strangely 
depressed.  She  had  been  thinking  of  the  old  home, 
not  regretfully,  but  with  a  subtle  tugging  at  the  heart- 

124 


A     CRY      IN      THE      NIGHT 


strings  that  affected  her  as  a  premonition  of  coming 
trouble.  She  thought  she  had  noticed  an  unexplained 
anxiety  throwing  its  shadows  of  late  over  the  calm 
serenity  of  her  husband's  countenance — and  now,  over 
against  the  thoughts  of  the  old,  happy,  care-free  life, 
she  saw  her  love  for  him  stand  out  in  bold  relief  as 
the  one  thing  that  had  come  to  make  up  her  existence. 

"If  anything  should  happen  to  him!"  Her  heart 
stood  still  at  the  thought. 

The  bright  fabric  that  she  had  woven  in  the  inner 
chamber  of  her  consciousness  was  all  centered  about 
him.  What  she  had  called  her  religious  faith  was, 
after  all,  faith  in  him.  Her  absorbing  interest  in  this 
people  that  she  had  never  seen  was  because  they  were 
his  people  and  because  he  had  awakened  it  by  his 
magician's  touch. 

Suddenly  she  heard  the  sound  of  shouting,  and  turn- 
ing the  corner  of  the  street  before  her  she  witnessed  a 
disorderly  rabble  of  men  and  boys.  The  figure  in 
advance,  now  turning  and  speaking  as  with  remon- 
strance, his  hand  lifted  in  protest,  now  advancing 
with  dignified  determination  to  heed  not  their  jeering 
and  to  disregard  their  threats  of  violence,  she  recog- 
nized as  her  husband. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  crowd  intended  serious  mischief. 
They  were  probably  animated  by  the  ruffianly,  hunting 
instinct  that  considers  every  marked  and  despised 
man  the  object  of  legitimate  sport  and  pursuit — the 
same  instinct  that  tags  a  rabble  of  unwashed  urchins 
at  the  heels  of  a  sot,  whose  senses  have  been  befud- 
dled with  drink  and  who  has  afforded  a  vent  for  the 
badgering  impulses  of  their  incipient  brutality.  In 
this  case  the  excitement  was  intensified,  because  their 

125 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

victim  was  well  clad,  in  full  possession  of  his  faculties, 
able  to  understand  to  the  full  their  goading  taunts, 
and  yet  equally  outside  the  pale  of  human  sympathy 
and  respect.  They  had  learned  by  experience  that 
pursuit  could  be  conducted  with  impunity,  as  the  only 
means  he  had  ever  employed  in  self-defense  had  been 
remonstrance  or  the  misunderstood  courage  of  silence. 

Carissa  did  not  realize  this,  and  if  she  had,  her 
indignation  would  have  been  none  the  less  intense. 
She  remembered  when  he  had  been  struck  down  before 
her  eyes,  and  the  repeated  threats  of  violence  that  had 
been  made  against  him.  She  thought  of  the  cowardly 
treatment  in  another  state  that  the  prophet  Joseph  had 
received  and  she  rushed  impetuously  forward  as  if  to 
protect  him  with  her  life.  As  Brand  looked  up  and 
saw  her,  the  predominant  expression  upon  his  face  was 
of  sad  astonishment. 

"Here,  dearest,  this  is  no  place  for  you.  Stay  there 
a  moment  and  never  fear."  He  lifted  her  into  the 
sheltered  enclosure  of  a  fence  corner  and  then  turned 
upon  the  crowd. 

"And  now,  you  cowards,  get  out  of  here.  Move,  I 
say,  or  there'll  soon  be  work  for  surgeons  of  this  ward 
in  plenty." 

He  rushed  forward,  seized  the  foremost  and  largest 
of  his  pursuers,  wrested  the  stick  from  his  hand  and 
deftly  tripped  him  so  that  he  fell  heavily  to  the 
ground. 

"And  now  get  up,  you  fool,  and  follow  the  rest  of 
those  cowards  home,"  he  contemptuously  kicked  the 
hulking  figure  before  him  and  pointed  to  the  melting 
crowd. 

"You  see,  Carissa,  they're  nothing  but  cowards  after 

126 


A      CRY      IN      THE      NIGHT 

all.  I  would  have  dismissed  the  escort  long  before 
this  had  I  dreamed  that  you  were  near,  to  be  fright- 
ened." 

It  was  long  before  the  color  came  back  to  Carissa's 
face.  She  panted  with  trepidation  as  she  walked — she 
was  forced  to  lean  heavily  on  his  arm  and  he  was 
compelled  to  almost  carry  her  up  the  steps  into  the 
hall  and  into  her  own  room.  She  smiled  at  his  words 
of  reassurance,  but  it  was  a  wan  smile  and  full  of  pain, 
though  loving  and  admiring. 

That  night  a  hasty  summons  was  despatched  for 
nurse  and  physician,  the  night-lamp  burned  till 
morning,  and,  just  as  day  was  breaking,  a  tiny  cry 
from  the  sick  room  announced  that  a  new  life  had 
come  into  the  world. 

"A  healthy  boy  and  full  of  vitality.  He  has  suffered 
no  harm  from  the  shock."  The  doctor  buttoned  his 
great  coat  about  him  and  smiled  with  professional 
satisfaction  as  he  spoke. 

•And  she?" 

"She  is  doing  splendidly.  Let  her  have  all  the  rest 
she  can  get.  Nurse  knows  what  to  do.  I'll  look  in 
again  after  breakfast." 


127 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE    CAT   OUT    OF    THE    BAG 

A  few  weeks  after  the  birth  of  his  son,  Brand  was 
sitting  with  Carissa  and  talking  of  the  future.  He 
had  been  able  to  spend  much  of  his  time  with  her 
during  these  weeks.  Elder  Willard  was  making  a  tour 
of  the  southern  states,  the  New  York  headquarters 
had  been  closed,  and  missionary  activity  had  been 
suspended,  until  further  orders  should  come  from  Salt 
Lake  City. 

Brand  had  enjoyed  this  respite  and  the  opportunity 
of  being  at  home  with  his  wife  and  boy. 

"He  is  a  child  of  faith,  we  will  call  him  Moroni," 
he  said  with  a  fond  look  at  the  little  fellow  sleeping 
the  sweet  sleep  of  infancy,  and  an  admiring  glance  at 
the  proud,  slightly-flushed  face  of  his  wife. 

"Moroni  the  angel  messenger,  associated  with  the 
first  call  of  the  prophet  Joseph,  and  the  one  who 
pointed  out  the  ancient  records  deposited  in  the  sacred 
hill  Cumorah." 

"It  is  a  beautiful  name,"  said  Carissa.  "Beautiful, 
because  of  its  hallowed  associations.  When  I  think 
of  his  future  I  am  anxious  that  even  his  unconscious 
childhood  should  be  guarded.  Do  you  think  we  shall 
soon  be  permitted  to  cast  in  our  lot  with  the  Lord's 
own  people?" 

How  sweet  was  her  attitude  of  motherly  care  and 
solicitude  as  she  stooped  toward  the  cradle,  and 
daintily  tucked  in  the  covers  with  a  caressing  touch! 

128 


THE    CAT     OUT    OF    THE    BAG 


A  shadow  passed  across  Brand's  features,  and  yet  he 
would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  explain  its  presence,  or 
the  hesitation  of  his  words. 

"I  hope  so,  yes,  and  yet— Carissa,  did  I  tell  you 
that  one  of  my  father's  old  friends,  whom  I  knew 
when  a  boy,  has  just  come  from  Salt  Lake?  I  shall 
want  you  to  know  him,  I  am  to  meet  him  to-day." 

"Will  you  bring  him  to  the  house  with  you?  It 
will  be  a  rare  pleasure  to  talk  with  him,"  she  replied. 
"I  have  seen  so  few  of  your  people,  you  know,  and  no 
one  who  could  tell  us  about  our  future  home." 

"As  I  remember  him,"  Brand  continued,  evading 
her  question,  "he  was  rugged,  and  somewhat  unculti- 
vated in  speech,  but  true  and  loyal.  Of  late  years  he 
has  gained  considerable  prominence  in  the  church.  He 
intimated  in  his  letter  that  he  had  a  message  for  me." 

He  could  read  in  her  eyes  the  hope  that  she  enter- 
tained concerning  the  character  of  this  message, 
and  he  felt  that  come  what  might  his  wishes  were  in 
harmony  with  hers. 

He  had  spoken  so  often  and  so  glowingly  of  the 
great  enterprises  that  were  being  carried  forward 
yonder  in  Zion,  that  his  own  soul  had  been  fired 
anew  with  an  eager  desire  to  have  part  in  them.  He 
did  not  minimize  the  difficulties,  he  longed  to  grapple 
with  them,  and  he  had  begun  to  persuade  himself  that 
Carissa's  faith  would  be  able  to  endure  any  experience. 
He  sometimes  accused  himself  of  disloyalty  that  he 
had  ever  questioned  it. 

Carissa's  personality  from  the  first  had  stimulated 
the  best  portion  of  his  thought,  and  whenever  he 
yielded  to  the  charm  of  her  presence,  he  almost  uncon- 
sciously shifted  his  ground,  and  spiritualized  his  own 

129 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

belief  in  the  materialistic  dogmas  of  his  creed.  It 
would  seem  that  the  enthusiasm  of  her  pure  mind 
gave  a  passing  illumination  to  the  points  of  faith  he 
urged  upon  her,  and  supplied  a  subtle  coloring  of  its 
own  to  his  natural  flow  of  eloquence. 

"I  have  to  meet  the  Elders  to-morrow,  in  the  city, 
and  hear  the  news  from  Zion.  If  the  word  is,  March! 
it  will  be  good  news,  won't  it,  sweet?" 

"Ah,  husband  mine,  wouldn't  it  be  joyful!" 
exclaimed  Carissa. 

The  messenger  from  Zion,  whom  Brand  met  next 
day  in  the  city,  was  a  gaunt,  tall  man,  with  bearded 
face,  small  sharp  eyes,  and  a  look  of  shrewdness  on 
his  features  that  were  weather-beaten  from  constant 
exposure. 

"Well,  Brother  Brand,  you  look  pretty  slick.  I 
guess  your  labors  for  the  Lord  have  been  agreein'  with 
you.  You  fellows  on  the  missions  have  the  easiest 
end  of  the  load,  and  don't  you  forget  it,"  he  remarked, 
with  rough  cordiality. 

"How  are  you,  Brother  Heber,  it  is  years  since  I 
saw  you,"  said  Brand,  as  they  shook  hands  in  a  warm 
greeting.  "I  have  heard  great  things  about  you  and 
the  work." 

"Yes,  we've  been  building  considerable,"  said 
Heber,  drawling  his  words  in  true  Yankee  fashion. 
"At  first  it  was  hold  your  gun  in  one  hand  and  build 
with  the  other.  The  Lamanites  were  overly  inquisi- 
tive for  a  time,  but  we've  taught  'em  a  few  lessons, 
and  several  of  their  chiefs  have  been  converted  by 
Brother  Brigham.  A  little  corn  and  a  few  pellets  of 
lead  done  the  business.  Yes,  the  valley  has  filled  up 
and  we  have  begun  to  overflow  into  the  country  around. " 

130 


THE    CAT    OUT    OF    THE     BAG 


"And  the  temple?" 

"The  ground  is  there— ten  acres  of  it.  It  will  be 
consecrated  in  February.  We  need  to  get  more 
money  in  hand  for  materials,  before  the  corner  stone 
can  be  laid.  But  it's  coming.  Doesn't  the  Lord 
say,  'The  wealth  of  the  world  is  mine,'  and  you  may 
be%ure  we'll  get  our  share  of  it."  A  look  of  shrewd- 
ness passed  over  his  hard  features.  "But  the  people 
must  be  urged  to  pay  up.  Brother  Brigham  has  given 
orders  that  you  shall  be  relieved  of  your  post  here, 
and  take  personal  charge  of  one  of  the  first  parties 
coming  through  next  season." 

A  sigh  of  pleasure  escaped  Brand's  lips.  "I  shall 
be  glad.      I  have  long  coveted  the  opportunity." 

Then  as  he  thought  of  Carissa,  "Who  will  take  my 
place?     How  early  ought  the  start  to  be  made?' 

"Well,  you'll  have  plenty  of  time  to  close  up  every- 
thing this  winter,  and  start  for  winter  quarters  in  the 
spring,"  responded  his  visitor.  "You'll  want  to  stock 
up  big.  There's  no  use  in  takin'  cash  out  there. 
Cattle  and  mules,  farming  tools  and  seed,  with  your 
wagons,  will  come  mighty  handy,  and  it  wouldn't  be 
bad  to  load  up  with  general  merchandise.  There's  a 
lot  to  be  done,  but  you  can  be  ready  to  take  charge  of 
one  of  the  parties  at  the  Missouri  and  get  started  up 
the  Platte  by  the  first  of  July.  I'll  relieve  you  here 
And  give  you  pointers." 

"Yes,  there's  much  to  be  done."  For  a  moment  his 
mind  seized  the  situation  vividly. 

"And  the  people  there,  already  in  Zion— are  they 
contented  and  happy?  How  do  they  adjust  them- 
selves to  the  new  conditions?"  Brand  asked. 

"Well,   there's   no   neighbors  to  quarrel  with  as  at 

131 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Nauvoo.  You  know  the  kind  of  people  that  have 
come;  they've  mostly  passed  through  your  hands  for 
a  year  or  so  back.  They're  pretty  apt  to  be  submis- 
sive and  do  as  they're  told.  That's  the  one  thing 
that  pleases  Brother  Brigham.  They  have  plenty  to 
do,  but  they  don't  lack  merry-makin's,  dancin's  and 
such.  Brother  Brigham  encourages  all  this,  for  it 
keeps  'em  light-hearted." 

"And  the  services — are  they  soul-inspiring?" 

•The  what?" 

'The  services  of  worship." 

"Oh,  the  services!  Why,  they're  red-hot!  There 
aren't  as  many  revelations  as  in  the  old  days,  but 
Brother  Brigham  hits  straight  from  the  shoulder,  and 
the  rest  of  us  chip  in  when  it's  necessary.  There's 
plenty  of  religion  to  the  square  inch  out  there,  and 
don't  you  forget  it." 

He  chuckled;  and  Eaton  Brand  felt  a  momentary 
disgust,  but  he  thought,  "It's  the  frontier  way. 
Heber  always  was  an  outspoken  fellow." 

"Say,  Brand,  I  suppose  you  know  they're  about  to 
let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  don't  you?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't  know? 
Didn't  you  see  the  brethren  that  went  over  to  Eng- 
land and  France,  to  instruct  the  Elders?" 

"No.  I  have  been  confined  to  the  house  for  the 
last  few  weeks." 

"Oh,  yes!  I  heard  something  about  it;  quite  a  tidy 
wench,  they  say.  Some  of  them  told  Brother 
Brigham  and  he  said,  Tt's  not  right  for  Brother  Brand 
to  keep  her  in  seclusion.  We  must  bring  him  to  the 
territory  and  have  him  show  her  off.'" 

132 


THE    CAT    OUT    OF    THE     BAG 

"My  wife  has  been  ill.  She  has  just  presented  me 
with  a  son."  Fatherly  pride,  and  the  old  feeling  of 
brotherliness  for  the  rough  character  before  him,  sub- 
dued the  irritation  caused  by  his  words. 

"That's  right.  I'm  glad  to  hear  iti  The  more  the 
merrier,  and  I  tell  you  it  every  woman  does  her  duty 
and  the  emigration  keeps  on  increasing,  we'll  have 
population  enough  in  a  few  years,  out  our  way,  to  force 
the  recognition  of  the  State  of  Deseret. 

"That  brings  me  back,"  he  went  on.  "Didn't  you 
know  they  were  going  to  announce  that  revelation  on 
'celestial  marriage'?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Brand  exclaimed.  "Is  that 
to  be  revived?  It  cannot  be!  It  must  not!  I  have 
been  disowning  it  for  seven  years." 

He  had  risen  in  his  excitement  and  now  towered 
over  his  visitor,  his  fist  resting  heavily  on  the  table. 
"I  have  heard  rumors,  but  I  have  not  believed  them." 

"They're  true  enough.  Don't  exercise  your  sensi- 
bilities in  the  matter.  It's  all  right  enough.  It's  the 
Lord's  will  for  replenishing  the  earth.  He  will  have 
a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  all  good  works.  At  any 
rate  the  matter  has  been  decided.  Commissioners 
have  gone  to  Europe.  Orson  Pratt  has  gone  to  Wash- 
ington. They  are  to  prepare  the  minds  of  men  to 
receive  the  word  of  the  Lord." 

"But  isn't  it  suicidal?     What  is  the  necessity?" 

Brand  dropped  back  into  his  seat,  and  began  nerv- 
ously plucking  at  the  wood-work.  He  had  been  aware 
of  the  secret  teachings  of  ]\Iormonism  concerning 
polygamy,  and  knew  that  these  teachings  alone 
shielded  the  conduct  of  many  of  the  leaders  from  the 
charge  of  criminality.     But  he  had  been  told  that  it 

133 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

was  not  for  the  world  to  know  these  things,  and  his 
conscience  had  early  been  trained  to  make  bold  public 
denials.  For  years  he  had  deliberately  closed  his  ears 
to  every  intimation  that  the  practice  of  polygamy  was 
on  the  increase,  and  that  it  must  soon  become  a 
recognized  principle  of  their  faith.  He  thought  of 
Carissa,  and  wondered  and  doubted. 

"You  see,  it's  this  way,"  Heber  replied,  "the  facts 
have  become  too  notorious.  The  habit  of  denyin'  the 
truth,  even  when  the  Lord  says  so,  is  a  leetle  corruptin' 
to  the  morals.  At  this  coming  conference  the  an- 
nouncement will  be  made.  It'll  be  all  right;  a  few  will 
turn  back,  because  they  love  the  fair  speakin'  of  the 
ungodly,  but  others  will  come.  You'll  find  it  will 
prove  a  drawin'  card,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"If  it  had  never  been  concealed!     But  now!" 

"Oh,  it's  all  right.  The  Lord's  hand  is  in  it  all. 
We  are  now  off  by  ourselves,  where  it  will  bother 
nobody;  and  it  wouldn't  have  done  to  have  kept  it 
secret  any  longer.  Think  of  Brother  Taylor  denying  it 
up  and  down  at  Boulogne,  and  provin'  it  wasn't  true 
from  the  'Doctrines  and  Covenants,'  and  him  with 
five  wives  in  Salt  Lake  City!"  The  argument  was 
certainly  unanswerable. 

Heber  studied  the  face  of  the  young  man  before 
him.  There  was  evidently  a  debate  going  on  that  he 
did  not  fully  understand.  He  did  not  know  that 
Brand  was  looking  at  the  matter  in  the  light  that 
would  shine  from  Carissa's  clear  and  uninstructed 
eyes.  There  came  as  a  relief  the  thought  of  the 
ascendency  that  he  exercised  over  her. 

"I  can  gradually  unfold  to  her  the  principles 
involved,"  he  thought.      "There'll  be  abundant  oppor- 

134 


THE    CAT    OUT    OF    THE     BAG 


tunity  on  the  long  journey.     She  will  learn  to  tolerate 
it  in  others.     I  will  assure  her  that  she  need  never  fear 

for  herself." 

He  understood  her  well  enough  to  know  that  noth- 
ing could  ever  induce  her  to  become,  personally,  a 
part  of  such  a  system.  But  he  did  not  despair  of 
bringing  her  to  see  the  beauty  and  utility  of  the 
abstract  theory,  so  long  as  it  was  illustrated  only  in 
the  lives  of  others. 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  was  inevitable  that  it  should 
come,"  he  finally  assented.  "I  suppose  we  might  as 
well  make  a  full  front  of  it,  but  it  will  raise  a  furious 
storm.  It  is  a  pity  that  it  was  ever  concealed,  or 
that  there  was  ever  anything  that  needed  to  be  con- 
cealed." 

"You  forget  that  you're  setting  yourself  against  the 
will  of  the  Lord.     Be  careful,  brother." 

"True,  I  do  forget,  but  I  was  commanded  to  forget. 
The  habit  of  denouncing  the  thing,  as  I  have  done  by 
express  instructions  for  these  years,  is  not  easily  to  be 
broken,"  he  said  bitterly. 

"Well,  the  habit  had  better  be  snapped  off  short 
before  you  reach  Brother  Brigham,"  said  the  other, 
and  added  kindly,  "you'll  soon  get  used  to  it.  As 
for  that  storm  you  speak  of,  there's  nothing  like  a 
storm  to  make  the  chickens  run  for  shelter.  Mark 
my  words,  it'll  be  followed  by  a  bigger  emigration  to 
Zion  than  we've  yet  known.  They'll  come  from 
Europe  and  from  the  States,  too,  and  all  the  quicker 
when  the  places  where  they've  been  comfortable 
become  too  hot  for  'em.  I  must  go  down  to  Washing- 
ton in  a  few  days  and  lend  a  hand  to  Brother  Pratt. 
There's  considerable  work  on  hand.     You've  got  the 

135 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

biggest  heft  of  what  I  had  to  say.      I'll  run  out  to  the 
old  place  some  day,  when  I  get  back." 

"You  will  be  welcome,  Brother  Heber,  but — "  he 
hesitated.  The  shrewd  face  of  Heber  lighted  up  as 
with  a  sudden  understanding. 

"I  see.  There's  a  little  complexity  down  there,  is 
there?  You  don't  want  anything  said  about  all  this, 
you  think  you  can  ravel  it  out  best  alone.  Well, 
perhaps  that's  so.  Just  be  firm;  caution's  all  right, 
but  firmness'll  do  the  business.  Don't  you  be  afraid 
of  my  spoiling  the  job.  The  Lord  be  with  you, 
brother." 

After  his  departure,  Eaton  Brand  considered:  "No, 
nothing  must  be  said  until  after  the  journey  has  begun. 
There  will  be  abundant  opportunity  during  those  long 
weeks.  I  wonder  how  she  will  receive  it.  But  she 
must  be  made  to  know  that  it  is  the  will  of  the  Lord. 
I  will  put  it  to  her  gently,  but  firmly,  and  she  vv^ill 
accept  it." 

When  he  reached  home  that  evening,  he  cried  out: 

"Carissa,  we're  going,  we're  going.  In  the  spring 
we  are  to  start  for  Zion." 

"Oh,  how  glad  I  am!"  and  she  threw  herself  into 
his  arms.  "I  have  longed  for  the  time  to  come,  I  have 
prayed  for  it." 

"Yes,  dearest,  it  has  been  hard  to  wait." 

"And  I  am  so  glad  for  Moroni.  Come  and  see 
him." 

And  they  stood  looking  at  the  young  monkey,  who 
was  smiling  in  his  sleep  like  an  angel.  The  mother's 
heart  throbbed  quickly.  She  would  be  happy  now, 
and  her  son  would  grow  to  a  noble  manhood,  cherish- 
ing the  fine  ideals  of  his  people. 

136 


THE     CAT    OUT    OF    THE     BAG 


As  soon   as   Brand  was   alone,  his  thought  reverted 
to  the  news  that  he  had  received  through  Heber. 

The  revelation  on  celestial  marriage  was  to  be  given 
to  the  world.  That  revelation  was  a  divine  authoriza- 
tion of  polygamy.  It  is  true  that  he  had  known  for  a 
long  time  that  this  was  a  system  believed  in  and  prac- 
ticed in  secret  by  the  leaders  of  the  church.  But 
now,  it  was  to  be  proclaimed  openly,  as  the  social 
system  of  the  people  among  whom  they  were  to  live! 
As  this  fact  came  home  to  him,  he  paced  up  and  down 
in  his  study  restlessly.  For  himself,  he  would  not 
have  minded  it,  but  as  he  thought  of  his  wife,  he 
exclaimed,  bitterly: 

"It's  a  beastly  business." 

Presently,  he  seated  himself  in  his  chair  and  set  the 
matter  squarely  before  himself. 

He  had  denied  this  thing  in  the  past.  This  fact  put 
him  in  an  unpleasant  situation!  But  he  had  denied  it 
in  obedience  to  the  express  commands  of  the  church. 
His  conscience  did  not  accuse  him  of  wrongdoing,  for 
he  was  fully  persuaded  of  the  unquestionable  authority 
of  the  holy  priesthood.  Obedience  to  that  authority 
was  the  first  requisite  of  moral  conduct. 

'Treach  nothing  but  the  first  principles  of  the 
doctrine  of  Christ,"  commanded  the  twelve  apostles  of 
this  Latter  Day  Church,  "faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
repentance  toward  God,  baptism  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
for  the  remission  of  sins,  laying  on  of  hands  for  the 
gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead 
and  eternal  judgment.  Leave  the  further  mysteries  of 
the  kingdom  till  God  shall  tell  you  to  preach  them, 
which  is  not  now." 

This    was    the    commission    under    which    he    had 

137 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

worked.  It  had  been  his  duty,  not  only  to  conceal 
these  further  mysteries,  but  also,  if  need  were,  to  deny 
their  existence. 

The  voice  of  the  prophet  had  spoken  with  no  uncer- 
tain sound: 

"I  say  unto  you,  hold  your  peace  until  I  shall  see 
fit  to  make  all  things  known  unto  the  world  concerning 
this  matter." 

"And  now  I  say  unto  you,  keep  these  thi?igs  from 
going  abroad  into  the  world,  until  it  is  expedient  in 
me. 

"But  a  commandment  I  give  unto  you  that  they  shall 
not  <^^^w/ themselves  of  these  things,  neither  speak  of 
them  before  the  world,  for  these  things  are  given  unto 
you  for  your  profit  and  your  salvatio?i. ' ' 

These  commandments  had  been  his  rule  of  action. 
He  did  not  now  question  their  righteousness.  He 
remembered  some  who  had  disobeyed  and  who  had 
brought  evil  upon  the  church,  by  making  confession 
of  the  actual  teachings  and  practices  of  the  Saints 
prematurely;  and  he  felt  that  just  punishment  had  been 
meted  to  them  when  they  were  cut  off,  without  mercy, 
and  given  over  to  the  buffetings  of  Satan  as  treason- 
able apostates.  He  set  all  this  before  his  mind,  and 
acquitted  himself  of  blame;  but  this  justification  did 
not  remove  the  unpleasantness.  It  would  prove  unfor- 
tunate, indeed,  unless  he  could  bring  Carissa  to  look 
at  the  matter  from  his  point  of  view. 

The  thought  came  not  to  join  the  emigration  west- 
ward, at  least  for  a  time.  But  he  knew  this  would  be 
construed  as  disobedience.  Suddenly  he  startled  him- 
self with  the  question:  "Am  I  sitting  in  judgment 
upon  the  representatives  of  God?" 

138 


THE     CAT    OUT     OF    THE     BAG 


The  warning  of  Heber  sounded  in  his  ears:  "Be 
careful,  brother!" 

Was  he  to  permit  his  private  interests  to  divert  him 
from  the  path  of  duty?  After  all,  would  a  temporiz- 
ing policy  help  him?  And  then,  too,  had  he  been 
strong  all  these  years  to  fail  now? 

The  great  West  was  calling  to  him.  His  heart  was 
in  the  mighty  enterprises  that  were  being  carried  for- 
ward. His  interests  were  all  enlisted  in  the  future  of 
his  people.  The  controlling  ambition  of  his  life  was 
associated  with  their  career  and  destiny.  As  he  strained 
his  mental  vision  upon  the  future,  the  strength  of  his 
desire  came  to  influence  his  judgment.  Carissa  would 
yet  learn  to  look  upon  all  this  from  his  standpoint.  Why 
was  he  indulging  his  apprehensions?  She  had  always 
listened  to  him;  she  had  proved  herself  teachable. 

"Yes,  but  this  is  different,"  he  said. 

He  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  there  would 
be  no  eagerness  on  her  part  to  adopt  the  further  mys- 
teries of  the  faith.  For  a  moment,  he  felt  that  this 
fact  was  in  keeping  with  all  that  had  been  so  powerful 
in  her  attraction  for  him,  but  he  put  away  the  thought 
with  impatience.  He  must  be  guarded  with  her,  that 
he  knew.  There  was  really  nothing  in  her  mind  as 
yet,  upon  which  such  a  revelation  could  rest.  He 
must  build  patiently  and  securely,  that  was  all.  He 
realized  to  the  full  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  but  as 
he  sat  there,  confidence,  born  of  his  sanguine  tem- 
perament, began  to  return. 

"I  will  be  firm,  but  gentle,"  he  thought,  "and  surely 
the  long  winter  evenings  still  before  us,  and  the  pro- 
tracted journey  overland,  will  afford  abundant  oppor- 
tunities." 

139 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

His  meditations  were  interrupted.  A  light  tap 
sounded  upon  the  door,  and  Carissa  entered. 

"May  I  come  in,  dear?" 

Her  face  was  flushed;  her  eyes  were  sparkling.  She 
had  been  indulging  in  delightful  anticipations. 

"Are  you  busy,  dear?  I  want  to  talk  with  you.  It 
seems  too  good  to  be  true." 

He  smiled  upon  her  lovingly. 

"Are  you  so  anxious,  then,  to  leave  this  cozy  nest, 
where  we  have  been  so  happy?" 

There  was  tenderness  in  his  words. 

She  took  a  low  seat  by  his  side. 

"It  is  true;  we  have  been  happy  here,  but — "  she 
hesitated  a  moment  before  she  added,  "I  have  spent 
so  many  anxious  hours,  dearest,  when  you  have  been 
away.  It  is  hard  to  feel  that  the  world  is  so  bitter  in 
its  hatred.*' 

"Your  loving  heart  has  exaggerated  all  that,  my 
wife." 

"Then,  too,"  she  continued,  "I  have  never  thought 
of  this  as  our  permanent  home.  It  is  only  a  stopping- 
place  on  our  way  to  that  great  country  of  God." 

"That  is  true,"  he  said  steadily,  but  with  a  trace  of 
compassion  softening  his  tone,  "but,  dearest,  you  must 
not  look  for  dazzling  external  conditions.  The  glory 
of  our  people  is  in  their  docility  and  obedience.  They 
have  been  terribly  tested.  They  have  suffered  every 
privation,  but  the  eye  of  faith  has  always  seen  the 
hand  of  God.  They  have  endured  hunger  and  cold; 
have  lived  in  tents  and  wagons  and  rude  temporary 
shelters,  constructed  of  logs  and  mud.  Some  have 
murmured  and  waxed  disobedient  against  the  voice  of 
the    holy   priesthood  and  have   been  cut  off.       Even 

140 


THE     CAT    OUT    OF    THE     BAG 


now  there  are  discordant  elements  that  need  a  hand  as 
strong  and  firm  as  that  of  IMoses  or  Joshua  to  control 
them." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  must  be  so,"  she  said,  sadly. 
"You  see,  Carissa,"  he  continued,  tenderly,  "the 
consciences  of  all  these  people  have  been  trained  by 
man-made  traditions,  and  have  been  subjected  to  the 
test  of  laws  enacted  by  the  ungodly.  The  result  is 
that  they  have  learned  to  put  their  own  standards  of 
right  and  honor  and  morality  against  the  revealed 
will  of  God.  The  revelations  of  Joseph  Smith  are  not 
to  be  subjected  to  this  test,  and  those  who  attempt  it 
are  not  of  the  true  faith." 

"His  teachings  always  harmonized  with  the  teach- 
ings of  Christ,  did  they  not?"  she  asked,  innocently. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied,  with  a  trace  of  impatience, 
"but  you  must  not  think  of  him  as  a  mere  commenta- 
tor. He  was  endowed  with  the  open  vision  of  God. 
He  spoke  as  one  having  authority.  He  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  declare:  -'I  know  more  than  all  the  world  put 
together,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  comprehends  more  than 
all  the  world,  and  I  will  associate  with  it.'  " 

Carissa  was  startled.  The  words  seemed  so  vulgarly 
self-assertive.  She  felt  a  momentary  shock  of  repug- 
nance. Brand  observed  it,  and  continued  firmly,  but 
gently: 

"That  sounds  like  a  presumptuous  claim,  I  know, 
but  he  needed  to  assert  his  authority,  in  order  to  break 
through  the  barriers  of  men's  unbelief.  Our  President, 
Brigham  Young,  declared,  and  his  words  express  a 
solemn  truth,  Carissa:  'Every  soul  that  confesseth 
that  Joseph  Smith  was  a  prophet,  that  he  lived  and 
died  a  prophet,  and  that  the  Book  of  Mormon  is  true, 

141 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

is  of  Christ,  and  every  soul  that  does  not  do  this  is  of 
Antichrist.'  " 

There  was  a  certain  sternness  about  Brand's  manner 
that  was  new  to  her.  She  did  not  dare  to  confess, 
even  to  herself,  the  sudden  feeling  of  apprehension 
that  had  seized  her,  but  he  saw  it  in  her  eyes.  For  a 
moment  he  feared  that  he  had  gone  too  far  or  too 
quickly.  His  manner  instantly  changed.  He  went 
to  her,  bent  over  her  and  kissed  her  lovingly  on  the 
lips. 

"Joseph  Smith,  dearest,  was  a  true  servant  of  God, 
a  true  disciple  of  Christ,  but  he  had  a  necessary  mes- 
sage for  this  age:  To  prepare  the  way  for  Christ's 
second  coming.  We  have  our  part  in  a  great  work, 
and  through  obedience,  you  will  find  that  the  testi- 
mony of  your  own  heart  will  become  a  precious  pos- 
session." 

His  tone  was  one  of  deep  sincerity.  She  was  com- 
forted and  reassured,  as  she  always  was,  by  his 
words,  but  a  consciousness  of  her  ignorance,  and  of 
her  lack  of  spiritual  insight  began  to  oppress  her. 

"I  seem  so  slow  in  learning,"  she  said,  as  she 
nestled  toward  him. 

"Never  mind,  dear.  The  realm  of  truth  is  very 
wide.  No  man  can  explore  it  all.  It  is  only  neces- 
sary for  us  to  grasp  firmly  certain  principles,  and  then 
yield  ourselves  to  the  guidance  of  Him  who  knoweth 
all  things,  and  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  who 
speaks  through  His  servants." 

They  were  silent.  As  he  put  his  arm  about  her  and 
held  her  closely,  his  thoughts  turned  to  Heber  and  his 
rough  utterances.  How  would  she  adjust  herself  to 
these  people?     He  had  never  been  in  Salt  Lake  City, 

142 


THE     CAT    OUT    OF    THE     BAG 

and  knew  nothing  of  their  life,  but  he  thought  of 
scenes  in  old  Nauvoo — Joseph  Smith  on  horseback, 
holding  a  review  of  the  Nauvoo  legion,  surrounded 
by  thousands  of  admiring  people,  greeted  everywhere 
with  reverential  respect;  again,  preaching  to  vast 
multitudes  of  attentive  listeners,  never  hesitating, 
always  speaking  with  authority  and  clinching  his  utter- 
ances with  a  "thus  sayeth  the  Lord." 

"Surely  this  man  was  a  true  prophet,"  he  thought. 
"God  has  prospered  marvelously  this  movement,  that 
had  so  small  a  beginning,  and  that  has  encountered 
such  furious  opposition." 

He  looked  down  into  Carissa's  face,  that  was  now 
untroubled  and  contented, 

"She  will  believe,"  he  thought,  but  he  felt  a  strange 
yearning  of  compassion  for  her.  "There  will  be  much 
that  will  repel  her.  She  will  have  many  a  hard  bat- 
tle, but  she  will  accept  it  and  believe." 


143 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A   GLIMPSE    OF   WINTER    QUARTERS 

In  1853  there  were  few  points  that  colonists  found 
more  difficult  to  reach  than  the  valley  of  the  Great 
Salt  Lake. 

The  bulk  of  the  emigration  from  Europe  was  by 
way  of  New  Orleans,  thence,  three  thousand  miles  up 
the  Mississippi  and  Missouri  Rivers,  to  Council  Bluffs, 
and  across  a  wilderness  of  plains  and  mountains  to  the 
final  destination. 

Such  a  journey  was  not  without  its  privations  and 
hardships,  and  was  often  attended  with  serious  diffi- 
culty and  danger.  A  long  sea  voyage  in  emigrant 
ships,  crowded  to  their  utmost  capacity  with  men, 
women  and  children,  denied  every  semblance  of  luxury, 
and  with  no  comforts  except  of  their  own  devising; 
then  a  tedious  journey  in  river  steamers  still  more 
cramped  and  comfortless.  It  is  no  wonder  that  a  long 
respite  at  Winter  Quarters  was  often  necessary,  before 
the  weary  but  hopeful  people  could  enter  upon  their 
long  pilgrimage  through  the  wilderness  to  the  prom- 
ised land. 

This  year  there  were  thousands  who  left  their  homes 
and  occupations  in  the  Old  World,  and,  totally  ignorant 
of  the  conditions  confronting  them,  committed  them- 
selves to  the  care  of  the  Elders  and  undertook  the 
journey. 

On  July  17,  1852,  had  been  published,  in  the  "Mil- 
lennial Star,"  the  seventh  general  epistle  of  the  twelve 
apostles  at  Salt  Lake  City. 

144 


WINTER      QUARTERS 

"Finally,  brethren,  fear  God;  work  righteousness 
and  come  home  speedily.  Prepare  against  another 
season  to  come  by  tens  of  thousands;  and  think  not 
that  your  way  is  going  to  be  opened  to  come  in  char- 
iots, feasting  on  the  fat  of  the  lands.  We  have  been 
willing  to  live  on  bread  and  water,  and  many  times 
very  little  bread,  too,  for  years,  that  we  might  search 
out  and  plant  the  Saints  in  a  goodly  land.  This  we 
have  accomplished  through  the  blessing  of  our  Heav- 
enly Father;  and  we  now  invite  you  to  a  feast  of  fat 
things,  to  a  land  that  will  supply  all  of  your  wants 
with  reasonable  labor;  therefore,  let  all  who  can,  pro- 
cure a  bit  of  bread,  and  one  garment  on  their  back;  be 
assured  there  is  plenty  of  water,  and  pure  by  the  way, 
and  doubt  no  longer,  but  come  next  year  to  the  place 
of  gathering,  and  even  in  flocks,  as  doves  fly  to  their 
windows  before  a  storm." 

And  come  they  did,  with  their  families:  laborers, 
farmers,  joiners,  shoe-makers,  rope-makers,  watch- 
makers, weavers,  tailors,  masons,  butchers,  bakers, 
painters,  potters,  dyers,  iron-moulders,  glass-cutters, 
nail-makers,  basket-makers,  sawyers,  gun-makers,  sad- 
dlers, miners,  smiths,  and  ship-wrights,  from  every 
country  of  northern  Europe;  with  every  style  of  equip- 
ment; all  in  eager  expectation  of  a  new  life  under 
more  favorable  conditions,  and  many  fired  by  a  relig- 
ious zeal  that  had  been  fanned  to  fanatical  enthusiasm. 

Nor  was  the  storm  lacking  to  hasten  them.  For,  as 
the  programme  of  the  leaders  was  unfolded,  and  Polyg- 
amy began  to  be  recognized  as  an  accepted  tenet  of 
the  new  faith,  persecution,  that  in  many  places  had 
begun  to  slumber,  was  awakened  afresh,  and  raged 
hard  and  furious. 

14-5 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"Heber  was  right,"  said  Brand  to  himself,  as 
reports  came  in  of  the  great  numbers  who  were 
gathering.  "The  Lord  will  have  a  peculiar  people. 
Intolerance  and  hatred  are  His  instruments  for  com- 
pacting the  people  together  and  for  hardening  their 
hearts  to  undertake  and  endure." 

For  him,  the  winter  months  were  crowded  with 
labor.  He  disposed  of  his  property,  purchased  out- 
fits, and  adjusted  all  his  personal  affairs,  in  preparation 
for  the  great  change. 

Affairs  of  the  church  had  also  engaged  him.  Heber 
had  desired  his  presence  at  every  consultation  of  the 
elders.  Pamphlets  were  prepared;  tracts  were  dis- 
tributed; personal  interviews  were  held;  the  city  was 
districted  for  house  to  house  visitation;  meetings  were 
held  on  the  public  squares,  in  hired  halls  and  in  private 
residences. 

Several  times  they  faced  the  fury  of  an  angry  mob. 
Their  work  attracted  attention,  they  were  denounced 
from  the  pulpit  and  lampooned  in  the  press.  They 
took  advantage  of  the  public  interest,  and  preached 
their  faith  with  consummate  tact,  a  bold  front,  and 
the  earnestness  of  unfaltering  conviction.  It  is  not 
strange  that  there  were  those  who  came  to  believe 
that  a  cause  so  zealously  advocated,  at  the  expense  of 
ease  and  comfort,  and  in  the  teeth  of  bitter  hostility, 
must  be  worthy  of  serious  investigation.  Many  of  the 
w^orking  classes  of  the  people  believed  their  teaching, 
and  were  encouraged  to  look  forward  to  the  time  when 
they  should  enter  upon  their  portion  of  the  inheritance 
of  the  people  of  God. 

His  experiences  this  winter,  and  his  frequent  contact 
with    Heber,  whose  shrewd  sense    never    failed    him, 

146 


WINTER      QUARTERS 

removed  the  last  vestige  of  apprehension  from 
the  mind  of  Eaton  Brand,  and  confirmed  him  even 
more  strongly  in  the  dogmas  of  his  faith.  But  to 
Carissa  he  did  not  broach  the  subject  that  was  absorb- 
ing his  thoughts.  He  felt  himself  fortified  for  the 
discussion  that  must  come,  but  he  adhered  to  his 
original  resolution  to  wait. 

She  had  never  been  more  contented,  although  at 
times  she  was  a  bit  troubled  by  his  preoccupation,  but 
the  days  passed  quickly;  her  hands  were  fully 
employed;  her  thoughts  were  busy  weaving  the  web 
of  the  future  with  bright  colors  and  glowing  fancies, 
even  as  her  fingers  were  busy  stitching  warm  garments 
for  her  boy,  and  her  heart,  when  hungry,  fed  itself  with 
the  rich  stores  of  her  maternal  affection. 

It  was  in  early  May  when  the  start  was  made.  At 
Chicago  they  were  fitted  out  with  wagons;  some 
loaded  with  freight  suitable  to  the  needs  of  colonists, 
and  others  fitted  up  with  some  regard  to  comfort, 
containing  sleeping  and  kitchen  accommodations  for 
the  entire  party.  The  teamsters  were  converts  from 
the  eastern  states,  who  eagerly  embraced  the  oppor- 
tunity of  securing  conveyance  for  themselves  and 
families  by  means  of  this  employment.  As  they 
passed  through  the  State  of  Iowa,  purchases  were  made 
of  additional  horses,  mules,  milch-cows,  and  sheep,  as 
well  as  grain  and  provisions,  so  that  as  they  drew  near 
the  Missouri  River,  their  train  presented  an  imposing 
and  almost  patriarchal  appearance.  From  this  point 
they  bade  good-bye  to  civilization,  and,  with  the 
reinforcements  that  were  added  by  way  of  New 
Orleans,  turned  their  faces  to  the  wilderness. 

The    outfitting    camp,    near    Winter    Quarters,    pre- 

147 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

sented  a  vivid  picture,  strange  and  thrilling  to  those 
accustomed  only  to  quiet  scenes  and  pleasing  land- 
scapes.    It  was  full  of  absorbing  interest  to  Carissa. 

"What  these  poor  people  have  endured  and  suf- 
fered!" she  said,  as  she  walked  among  them  a  few 
days  after  their  arrival. 

"Yes,  and  they've  got  a  lot  more  to  go  through,  too, 
before  they  reach  the  goal;  and  yet  their  past  life  has 
been  such  that  almost  any  change  is  for  the  better." 

They  approached  a  group  gathered  merrily  about  a 
wagon  that  had  evidently  made  the  trip  overland 
and  returned,  and  that  was  now  receiving  certain 
needed  repairs. 

"This  beats  sitting  all  day  cross-legged  on  a  bench, 
eh,  Jock:^" 

"Is  that  you,  Maggie?  It  hasn't  tamed  you  much 
that  I  can  see." 

A  stooping,  dirty,  perspiring  figure  looked  up  with 
a  sheepish  grin  at  the  buxom,  full-faced  girl  who  had 
accosted  him,  and  who,  with  arms  spread  broadly,  was 
giving  a  grotesque  caricature  of  a  bandy-legged  tailor, 
grimacing  hideously  at  his  task  of  coat-binding.  The 
girl's  costume  was  coarse  but  neat,  her  hands  were 
roughened  with  manual  labor,  but  her  face  was  pleas- 
ing in  its  saucy  boldness  and  unmistakable  good 
nature.  She  was  evidently  in  full  enjoyment  of  the 
novelty  and  freedom  of  her  situation.  She  was  accom- 
panied by  two  or  three  others,  who  showed  none  of  the 
pinched  look  usually  associated  with  close  confine- 
ment on  ship-board  and  short  rations. 

To  complete  the  group,  though  standing  a  little  to 
one  side,  was  a  tall,  gaunt  woman  of  middle  age,  with 
a  shawl  drawn  around  her  head,  the  national  costume 

148 


WINTER      QUARTERS 


of  Swedish  women  of  the  lower  classes.  A  thin- 
faced  babe  in  her  arms  was  nursing  spasmodically  at 
the  flabby,  carelessly  exposed  breast.  There  was 
something  touching  in  her  attitude  as  she  stood  there 
careless  of  the  merriment,  looking  out  with  dull, 
weary  eyes  upon  the  desolate  stretch  of  waste  land  to 
the  westward. 

At  a  distance  several  women  were  calling  to  each 
other,  over  their  wash-tubs.  A  clothes-line  was  bright 
with  many-colored  garments,  and  several  children 
were  seen  tugging  with  all  their  strength  as  they  car- 
ried heavy  pails  of  water  from  the  spring. 

Hard  by  stood  a  group  of  Elders,  who  had  just 
emerged  from  the  doorway  of  a  rudely  constructed 
log  cabin,  and  were  talking  and  gesticulating  as  though 
discussing  matters  of  moment. 

Horses  saddled  and  bridled  stood  near;  wagons  were 
in  process  of  loading.  Beyond,  herds  of  cattle  were 
finding  short  pickings,  and  were  kept  in  order  by  boys 
mounted  on  nimble-footed  ponies. 

Several  men  were  engaged  in  the  occupation  of 
cleaning  their  guns  and  preparing  them  for  use,  while 
a  nondescript  group  of  idlers,  who  had  evidently  been 
acquainted  with  a  variety  of  occupations,  were  being 
instructed  in  the  use  of  this  carnal  but  necessary 
weapon  of  defense. 

Two  men,  brothers,  tall,  straight-limbed,  clear- 
eyed,  with  the  ruddy  Saxon  skin  and  hair,  each  with 
a  short,  curly,  sandy  beard,  and  an  expression  of 
animal  innocence  on  their  faces,  were  looking  toward 
the  group  of  girls  first  mentioned,  and  were  talking 
together  in   low  tones,  with   an  occasional  chuckle  of 

amusement. 

149 


BY    ORDER     OF    THE     PROPHET 

"Oh,  but  it's  good  to  leave  those  nasty,  cramped 
ship's  quarters  behind  us,"  suddenly  exclaimed 
Maggie,  ceasing  her  pantomime,  and  stretching  her 
arms  upward  in  a  gesture  of  relief.  For  the  moment 
she  seemed  the  very  personification  of  this  entire 
movement,  from  the  cribbed'narrowness  of  a  meager 
unsatisfied  existence  in  the  densely  crowded  purlieus 
of  Old  World  cities,  or  factory  villages,  out  into  the 
broad,  free,  untrammelled  life  of  the  great  West. 

The  woman,  with  her  nursing  baby  still  tugging  at 
her  lean  breast,  turned  her  glance  wearily  upon  the 
group,  and  then  with  an  apathetic  air  of  mournful 
patience,  moved  listlessly  away  to  the  spot  where  her 
husband  had  heaped  together  their  assortment  of 
bundles  and  had  bidden  her  wait. 

Eaton  Brand  had  caught  with  delight  the  suggested 
symbolism  of  the  girl's  spontaneous  gesture.  He 
turned  to  convey  the  thought  to  his  wife.  He  saw 
her  following  with  sympathetic  eyes  the  figure  of  the 
woman  who  seemed  so  hopeless  of  finding  anything 
in  life  worth  living  for.      Brand  kept  silent. 

"You'll  find  yourself  cramped  enough  in  this  old 
box,  before  the  next  three  months  are  over." 

The  voice  came  from  under  the  wagon,  and  w^as 
broken  by  the  sound  of  hammering  as  the  man  went 
on  with  his  work. 

"That's  where  you  fool  yourself.  I'm  going  to 
walk  every  step  of  the  way.  Aren't  we,  girls?  Elder 
Carson  says  that  the  men  and  the  women,  too,  that 
are  strong  enough  will  have  to  walk.  You  don't  catch 
me  doubling  up  my  legs  on  top  of  a  hen-coop,  when 
I've  got  a  chance  to  stretch  'em." 

Brand  approached  the  wagon. 

150 


SHE    SEEMED    THE    VERY    PERSONIFICATION    OF   THIS 
ENTIRE     MOVEMENT. 


WINTER       QUARTERS 

"Well,  brother — ?"     He  paused,  inquiringly. 

"My  name  is  John  Quibble,  sir."  The  workman 
ceased  his  hammering,  and  sank  back  upon  his 
haunches. 

The  girls  laughed  and  looked  at  the  newcomer, 
unawed  by  his  dignity  and  show  of  command,  although 
they  drew  back  a  little  for  him  to  approach,  and  then 
glanced  with  more  curiosity  at  the  fittingly  attired 
beautiful  woman  by  his  side. 

"Thank  you — and  my  name  is  Eaton  Brand.  You 
are  to  go  out  with  my  company,  I  believe.  Shall  you 
have  everything  in  readiness,  Brother  Quibble?  You 
know  we  have  set  the  time  of  starting  for  to-morrow 
morning." 

"Oh,  we're  all  ready  now.  There  was  just  a  little 
tinkering  on  this  cross-bar  here.  I'm  new  to  this  sort 
of  business,  and  don't  know  much  about  this  kind  of 
tool,"  and  he  pointed  with  his  hammer  to  a  large 
bruise  on  his  thumb. 

"Give  him  a  goose  and  a  pair  of  shears  and  he's  all 
right,"  spoke  up  Maggie.  "Aren't  you,  Jock?"  and 
the  girls  tittered  teasingly. 

He  grinned  up  at  them,  and  then  said,  "But  we'll 
have  everything  on  to-night,  and  be  ready  at  the  word." 

"All  right.  Brother  Quibble.  I'll  put  you  in  charge 
of  this  wagon.    Do  these  girls  go  in  your  party?" 

"I  guess  they  might  as  well.  We've  all  come  from 
Manchester  together.  That  one's  name's  Maggie 
Morey.  Her  father  and  mother  are  along  with  two 
young  ones.  Those  other  two  are  Lizzie  and  Carrie 
Cassady.  Their  brother  is  over  there  talking  with 
Elder  Carson."  He  pointed  awkwardly  with  his 
bruised  thumb. 

151 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"That's  good.  Your  party  is  very  nearly  made  up. 
You  need  one  more,  though.  Every  wagon  must  take 
ten  persons,  you  know." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mention  the  old  man.  He  ain't  much 
good,  a  little  weak  in  the  spine;  but  I  couldn't  leave 
him  behind.  He's  my  father,  you  know,  and  I  had 
to  bring  him  or  he'd  a  died."  He  spoke  apologetic- 
ally and  with  a  whimsical  plaintiveness.  "He  can't 
do  anything,  but  he  don't  weigh  much,  and  we  can 
stow  him  away  comfortably.  He's  set  an  awful  store 
on  comin'  out  to  Zion." 

"That's  right,"  said  Brand,  turning  away.  "Always 
look  out  for  your  old  father,  he  looked  out  for  you 
when  you  were  helpless.  I  trust  you  to  see  that  every- 
thing is  in  readiness.  Come,  Carissa,"  and  with  a 
pleasant  nod  backward,  he  continued  his  round  of 
inspection. 

"That  class  will  make  the  best  colonists,"  he  said. 
"It's  all  new  to  them,  and  they'll  bungle  things  at 
first,  but  they  have  hardiness  and  good  nature,  and 
they'll  get  on." 

"Did  you  notice  that  poor  woman  with  her  half- 
starved  baby?"  Carissa  asked. 

"Yes,  dearest,  there  are  many  like  that.  But  the 
joy  of  living  will  return." 

"Will  she  go  with  our  company?  I  should  like  to 
talk  to  her." 

"No,  I  think  not.  They  have  nothing.  They  will 
have  to  be  fitted  out,  when  the  emigrant-fund  money 
comes." 

"Let  us  take  her  with  us.  Put  her  husband  in 
charge  of  one  of  the  wagons.  Let  her  ride  with  the 
other  women.     Can't  we  do  it?" 

152 


WINTER      QUARTERS 


"Dearest,  your  sympathies  would  destroy  all  disci- 
pline.    There   are  many  others  in  the  same  sad  case." 

"But  I  feel  I  should  like  to  do  it.  Her  face  will 
haunt  me,  I  think,  if  we  leave  her  behind." 

Their  glances  met,  and  Brand  laughed,  as  he  said, 
"You  are  the  best  girl  in  the  world,  Carissa.  You 
shall  have  your  own  way." 


153 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE   START   OVERLAND 

Carissa  thought  that  the  crossing  of  the  Missouri 
River  would  perhaps  open  up  a  new  world  of  adven- 
ture. They  had  entered  the  land  of  the  Pottawatomies, 
tribes  of  Indians  who  had  their  hunting  grounds 
along  the  valley  of  the  Elkhorn  and  Platte  Rivers,  and 
who  were  bold,  murderous  thieves.  She  had  heard 
stories  of  their  attacks  and  had  seen  the  careful 
inspection  of  fire-arms  and  ammunition  that  took 
place  at  the  outfitting  camp. 

But  so  far  the  worst  enemies  encountered  were  great 
swarms  of  huge,  voracious  mosquitoes.  They  settled 
not  only  upon  the  folk  but  also  upon  the  cattle,  who 
became  restive.  Nor  was  it  strange  that,  with  inex- 
perienced drivers,  many  of  whom  had  never  seen  an 
ox-goad  before  in  their  lives,  and  who  were  slow  in 
being  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  "geeing"  and 
"hawing,"  they  were  soon  entangled  in  almost  hope- 
less confusion. 

On  the  first  day.  Quibble,  or  "Brother  Jock,"  as  he 
had  been  dubbed  by  Maggie,  became  so  confused  by 
the  necessity  of  fighting  the  intolerable  pests  that  he 
advanced  too  far  in  front  of  his  "lead  oxen"  and,  with 
frantic  flourishing  of  his  arms,  so  frightened  them  that 
they  swerved  violently  from  the  path.  They  were  in  an 
awkward  bit  of  road,  where  the  ground  sloped  sharply 

154 


THE       START       0\^ERLAND 


from  the  track.  A  shrill  scream  eaused  Carissa  to 
look  that  way,  and  she  beheld  the  cumbrous  wagon 
slowly  toppling  over. 

Brand,  who  was  not  far  distant,  superintending 
affairs  from  horse-back,  hurried  to  the  scene.  He 
succeeded  in  averting  the  stampede  of  the  cattle,  but 
was  too  late  to  save  the  falling  wagon. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  wagon  at  the  time,  except 
Jock's  father,  and  the  poor  old  man,  who  was  quite 
too  feeble  to  help  himself,  went  down  with  the  crash, 
and  was  fatally  crushed. 

It  was  pitiful  to  hear  the  groaning  of  the  wounded 
man,  and  to  witness  the  horror  and  frantic  grief  of 
poor  Jock. 

Maggie  had  been  the  first  to  tear  aside  the  wagon 
covering,  lift  the  weight  of  boxes,  and  vainly  attempt 
to  soothe  back  life  into  the  broken  body. 

"Quick,  get  some  water  and  spirits  if  you  can  find 
any.  Stand  back  all  of  you.  Oh,  ^Ir.  Brand,  I  am 
afraid  he  is  dying.  Help  us  to  lift  him  out  of  this, 
and  see  if  there  is  any  hope." 

Their  hands  met  in  the  performance  of  this  humane 
task.  ]\Iaggie  looked  up  into  his  face,  the  solemn 
awe,  with  which  we  all  regard  the  snapping  of  life's 
thread,  stealing  the  mischief  from  her  eyes  and  rob- 
bing her  cheeks  of  the  freshness  of  their  bloom. 

After  the  wagon  was  righted,  the  long  train  started 
onward;  and  that  night  a  grave  was  dug,  and  the 
solemn  service  of  the  dead  made  the  wilderness  seem 
still  more  mysterious  and  terrible  to  the  imagina- 
tion. 

That  night  Carissa  was  glad  to  feel  the  strong  arms 
of  her  husband  about  her,  as  she  said: 

155 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"How  unutterably  sad  to  die  so  horribly  in  this  awful 
waste  land  and  to  make  one's  grave  where  it  must  be 
left  behind  by  all  we  love." 

"Yes.  I'm  thinking  there  will  soon  be  no  need  for 
any  one  to  lose  their  way  in  this  wilderness.  We  shall 
mark  it  with  the  graves  of  our  dear,  dead  people,"  said 
Brand,  with  some  emotion. 

On  the  third  day,  which  was  Saturday,  they  reached 
the  Elkhorn.  Several  wheels  were  broken.  So  the 
wagons  were  lightened  of  their  loads  and  temporarily 
supported  by  means  of  heavy  timbers,  and  when  camp 
was  made,  on  the  east  side  of  the  river,  two  or  three 
wheelwrights  were  set  to  work  making  repairs.  The 
cattle,  under  a  strong  guard,  were  driven  to  an  excel- 
lent pasturage,  and  the  camp  was  set  in  order. 

It  made  a  striking  scene  as  the  night  fell  upon  the 
landscape,  and  camp-fires  were  lighted,  and  the  people 
began  to  gather  themselves  in  groups  and  sing  the 
songs  of  Zion. 

Without  question,  no  great  migratory  movement  of 
which  we  have  any  record,  was  ever  more  picturesque 
or  possessed  more  purely  romantic  elements.  Here 
were  camped  men,  women,  and  children,  thousands  of 
miles  from  home,  hundreds  of  miles  from  their  desti- 
nation, cut  adrift  from  every  past  association,  obeying 
the  call  of  leaders  whom  they  had  never  seen,  inex- 
perienced to  meet  the  emergencies  which  would  con- 
front them,  aware  that  they  were  thrusting  themselves 
through  an  inhospitable  region  overrun  by  a  savage, 
hostile  and  cunning  race,  and  yet  lifting  their  hearts 
in  praise  and  their  voices  in  song,  making  a  night's 
tabernacle  in  the  wilderness,  with  a  sense  of  security 
under  heaven's  protection,  that  was  sublime. 

156 


THE       START      OVERLAND 

Look  upon  these  people  as  we  may,  despise  them  as 
we  may  for  their  ignorant  credulity,  we  must  at  least 
believe  in  the  sincerity  that  found  expression  in 
unchecked  devotion  and  confident  hymns  of  praise,  in 
the  midst  of  appalling  dangers  and  discomforts  griev- 
ous to  be  borne. 

Whatever  character  their  faith  assumed  after  they 
committed  themselves  to  the  moulding  touch  of  the 
temple  priesthood,  here  in  the  wilderness,  it  was  sim- 
ple, childlike,  free  from  austerities,  spontaneous, 
uncorrupted  and  beautiful.  It  was  strong  enough  and 
deep  enough  to  be  perfectly  natural.  It  mixed  itself 
up  fearlessly  with  the  spirit  of  adventure  and  enter- 
prise, and  gave  to  the  common  transactions  of  every- 
day life  an  aspect  of  liveliness  and  color. 

The  Sabbath  was  remembered  quietly,  if  not  rigidly. 
They  had  camped,  as  they  had  marched,  in  strict 
order.  Each  party  of  ten  had  pitched  its  own  tents. 
Each  company  of  lOO  had  selected  those  who  were  to 
guard  and  tend  the  cattle,  and  perform  the  necessary 
labor  for  security  and  repose.  The  entire  camp  was 
under  Brand's  supervision,  but  he  received  valuable 
suggestions  from  Elder  Carson,  who  had  made  the 
journey  several  times  before. 

"It's  a  mistake  to  shoe  those  draught  cattle  at  the 
start.  It  would  be  better  to  wait  and  shoe  them  at  the 
first  show  of  lameness.  The  shoes  are  cumbersome 
and  awkward,  and  many  of  the  oxen  would  not  need 
them  till  they  reach  the  rocky  divide,"  said  Carson. 

"Which  is  better,  iron  or  leather?"  inquired  Brand. 

"1  think  gutta-percha  would  prove  the  best  mate- 
rial. I  wanted  to  try  it  this  season.  At  a  few 
moments'    notice   it  could  be  softened   and    moulded 

157 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


about  the  critter's  foot.  It  could  be  left  there  until 
the  hoof  had  grown  and  recovered  its  hardness,  and 
*  then  easily  removed.  There'd  be  no  need  to  throw 
them,  or  lift  them  from  their  legs,  to  put  it  on, 
either." 

"Why  did  you  want  us  all  to  get  goggles,  at  Kanes- 
ville,  old  man?"  said  Brand,  laughing. 

"I  guess  you'll  know  without  any  telling,  when  we 
strike  the  Platte  and  the  hot  winds.  Dust  and  sun- 
shine, with  some  sand  thrown  in,  make  a  pretty  good 
mixture  for  the  eyes,  if  you  want  'em  blinded," 
remarked  Carson,  dryly. 

"Is  there  much  danger  from  the  Indians?"  Brand 
asked. 

"Not  if  you  keep  a  sharp  lookout.  If  they  think 
there  is  a  chance  for  them,  they  will  trail  you  day  and 
night  for  weeks,  in  hope  of  a  surprise;  but  they  are 
cowardly  devils,  and  have  learned  that  our  people  are 
always  ready.  Be  vigilant  and  don't  let  small  parties 
stray  away." 

They  were  returning  from  an  inspection  of  the  cat- 
tle, and  were  near  the  camp  when  a  group  of  girls 
appeared,  laughing  gaily,  swinging  their  arms,  and 
approaching  a  cluster  of  low  trees  by  the  water's  edge. 
Foremost  among  them  was  Maggie.  She  carried  her- 
self with  a  free,  careless  swing,  which  matched  well 
with  her  merry  humor  and  unpretending  good  nature. 
Brand  liked  to  look  at  her,  liked  to  talk  to  her.  She 
attracted  him,  and  the  attraction  was  not  exactly 
spiritual. 

"Good  morning,  Maggie,"  he  said.  "Have  you 
seen  Brother  Quibble?  You  must  hearten  him  up  a 
bit.     The  poor  fellow  feels  his  misfortune  deeply." 

158. 


THE       START      OVERLAND 

"He'll  get  over  it  in  a  day  or  two.  It  ain't  that  he 
set  such  store  by  the  old  man,  but  he  feels  that  it  was 
his  fault.  He  says  he  can  never  drive  the  team  again," 
answered  IMaggie,  flushing  slightly. 

"Nonsense,  it  wasn't  his  fault.  They're  all  green 
at  the  business.  It  will  at  least  teach  him  not  to  play 
wind-mill  again  in  front  of  his  oxen.  I'll  talk  with 
him.  Where  are  you  girls  going?  You  must  not  stray 
far  from  the  camp,  you  know." 

They  laughed  at  each  other  embarrassedly. 

"There's  no  harm  in  going  over  to  those  bushes,  is 
there?  We  want  a  bath,  and  they  are  quite  sheltered." 
Maggie  pointed  to  the  little  thicket. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  broke  in  Carson.  "Shall  I 
stand  guard  and  see  that  no  one  interrupts  the  per- 
formance?" 

Maggie  tossed  her  head  disdainfully,  and  saying, 
"Come  on,  girls,"  disappeared  among  the  low  trees. 

"They're  fine  strapping  wenches,"  said  Carson,  as 
they  proceeded  toward  the  camp.  "They'll  be 
snapped  up  mighty  quick  when  they  reach  the  valley. 
Shouldn't  wonder  if  Brother  Brigham  looked  them 
over  a  bit.  One's  enough  for  me,  though,  until  I  can 
afford  it  better." 

He  spoke  as  lightly  as  though  he  were  engaged  in 
bringing  a  drove  of  heifers  to  a  hungry  market.  His 
words  and  tone  grated  on  Brand's  sensibilities.  He 
suddenly  became  unpleasantly  conscious  that  he  had 
made  little  or  no  progress  in  preparing  Carissa's  mind 
for  the  terrible  truth  that  awaited  her. 

"The  beginning  of  apostasy  is  in  the  refusal  to 
recognize  the  authority  of  the  holy  priesthood,"  he 
said  to  her  that  evening,  after  leading  up  to  the  point, 

159 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

deftly.     "And  this  refusal  has  always  been  followed  by 
blind  disobedience  and  the  withdrawal  of  God's  spirit." 

He  found  a  ready  assent  to  this  abstract  proposition. 
Poor  Carissa  had  never  found  her  heart  inclined  to 
mutiny.  It  was  held  too  securely  in  the  sweet  and 
firm  grasp  of  a  satisfying  love. 

"The  time  may  come,  dearest,  when  you  will  try  to 
evade  the  application  of  this  teaching,"  he  continued, 
looking  at  her  seriously.  "The  Lord's  ways  are 
inscrutable,  He  does  not  always  command  in  accord- 
ance with  our  preconceived  notions.  Would  you  obey, 
if  He  wished  you  to  renounce  the  thing  you  hold  most 
precious  in  life?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  in  a  doubtful  tone. 

"Nothing,  dearest,"  he  said,  lightly,  "nothing  that 
you  hold  precious  is  in  danger.  With  you  it  has  been 
a  joy  to  sever  every  tie,  and  to  face  hardship  and 
danger  that  your  lot  may  be  cast  with  God's  people. 
I  wonder  would  you  have  obeyed  as  readily,  if  the 
command  had  caused  an  intolerable  wrench  of  the 
heart-strings?" 

She  was  silent.  Her  eyes  sought  his  face,  and  then 
wandered  to  the  little  bed  where  her  boy  lay  in  slum- 
ber, a  smile  upon  his  face,  his  bare  dimpled  arm 
stretched  upward  and  encircling  his  beautiful  flax- 
crowned  head. 

She  was  looking  upon  her  world,  and  wondering 
what  any  world  could  mean  to  her  without  their  sweet 
companionship.  She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
sobbed. 

"God  would  not  be  so  cruel.  If  He  were,  I  am  afraid 
it  is  in  my  heart  to  disobey  Him." 

He  was  alarmed  at  her  agitation. 

160 


THE       START      OVERLAND 


"Hush,  dearest,"  he  said,  "I  was  wrong  to  disturb 
you  with  foolish  suppositions.  Dismiss  these  fancies. 
God  is  not  cruel.  Sometimes  we  do  not  understand 
His  ways;  but  never  doubt,  never  question  for  a 
moment  that  His  will  is  concerned  in  working  out  for 
us  a  weight  of  happiness  greater  than  we  have  ever 
dreamed." 

As  she  smiled  again  in  restored  confidence,  and  said 
how  foolish  she  was  to  give  way  to  idle  fears,  he  left 
her,  and  slowly  made  the  rounds  of  the  camp  where 
they  had  halted  for  the  night. 

"She  will  accept  it,  but  it  will  sadden  her.  It  may 
cast  a  shadow  upon  her  faith  that  I  shall  be  powerless 
to  remove.  She  will  wonder  why  I  have  given  the 
fact  such  firm  and  constant  denial.  Can  I  make  the 
case  clear  to  her,  when  her  heart  begins  to  accuse  me 
of  lack  of  faith  and  sincerity?  Yet  it  must  be  done. 
Good  God,  what  a  situation!" 

Thereafter  he  seized  every  opportunity  to  set  before 
her  the  absolute  authority  of  the  church,  whose  dictum 
was  final  in  every  question  of  right  and  wrong; 
whose  decisions  were  the  utterance  of  divine  wis- 
dom and  must  command  unquestioning  obedience. 
He  showed  her  that  the  current  morality  of  a  God-re- 
jecting world  furnished  no  standard  by  which  the  Saints 
of  God  would  be  judged.  All  this  with  infinite  tact, 
patience,  and  magnetic  eloquence;  and  yet  with  what 
disappointing  results. 

Carissa  listened,  perplexed  sometimes,  but  rarely 
questioning. 

She  lost  somewhat  of  her  gaiety  in  the  stress  of  new 
ideas,  and,  when  left  in  the  slow  toiling  wagon 
alone  with  Mother  Brand  and  Moroni,  might  be  seen 

161 


BY    ORDER     OF    THE    PROPHET 

looking  out  over  the  endless  roll  of  prairie,   with  a 
wistful  look  in  her  beautiful  eyes. 

Brand  did  not  realize  that  he  was  building  up  in  her 
mind  a  dread  of  the  church,  so  all-powerful,  and  of  the 
God,  who  spoke  through  the  church  with  such  grim, 
unswerving  authority;  nor  did  he  see  that  the  character 
of  her  faith  was  undergoing  a  subtle  change. 

One  night  there  came  suddenly  before  her  a  vision 
of  the  sweet,  heather-scented  fields  of  Cornwall,  the 
delightful  shelter  of  the  old  ash  trees  in  picturesque 
groupings,  where  she  had  wandered  in  the  care-free 
days  of  girlhood,  the  old  home  with  all  its  peaceful 
happy  associations,  the  old  faces  long  loved  and  now, 
alas,    almost  forgotten. 

The  abruptness  of  the  vision,  its  vividness,  startled 
her  as  with  a  flash  of  lightning. 

Something  seemed  to  be  calling  the  old  Carissa  to 
awaken.  She  barkened — the  night  wind  whistled 
through  the  rude  canvas  covering  of  the  wagon  where 
she  had  been  sleeping.  There  was  heard  the  barking 
of  a  few  thievish  camp-followers,  the  grumbling  tones 
of  the  teamster  out  in  the  darkness  bidding  them 
"begone" — the  restless  stirring  of  the  cattle  momen- 
tarily startled  and  lumbering  to  their  feet.  All  these 
had  become  familiar  night  noises  but  they  seemed 
strange  to  her. 

She  tried  to  piece  together  again  the  fragments  of 
her  vision.  A  strange  feeling  of  homesickness  came 
over  her;  the  sense  of  loneliness  as  of  a  child  that  had 
wandered  far  from  home  and  finds  itself  in  alien  sur- 
roundings, possessed  her;  and  then  she  suddenly  re- 
membered— that  this  was  her  life,  and  that  she  was 
happy  in  it. 

162 


THE       START      OVERLAND 

She  drew  back  the  flap  of  the  curtain  and  looked 
out.  All  was  still!  How  far  away  the  stars  appeared! 
How  mysteriously  melancholy  the  deep  impenetrable 
shadows  of  the  night!  The  regular  sound  of  gentle 
breathing  at  her  side  completely  recalled  her — she 
turned  toward  the  little  form  snuggling  against  her, 
buried  her  face  in  his  soft,  warm  hair  and  sobbing 
gently,  she  scarcely  knew  why,  fell  into  a  deep  re- 
freshing sleep. 


163 


CHAPTER    XVI 

BITS   OF    COLOR   BY   THE   WAY 

The  crossing  of  the  Elkhorn,  which  was  undertaken 
on  Monday  morning,  proved  no  light  task.  A  ferry- 
boat, large  enough  to  transport  two  wagons  at  a  time 
and  that  had  been  used  by  former  parties,  was  found 
moored  to  the  bank.  While  the  wagons  were  being 
brought  down  to  the  shore.  Brand  ordered  that  a  rope 
should  be  stretched  across  the  stream.  A  lighter  rope 
with  a  running  noose  enabled  two  men  to  guide  the 
boat  and  hold  it  against  the  current,  while  others  with 
oars  and  long  poles  propelled  it  across  with  its  heavy 
freight. 

The  cattle  swam  across.  David  Sutter  and  the 
herders,  well  mounted  and  armed  with  prods  and 
goads,  gathered  them  in  little  groups  upon  the  shore. 
It  was  very  evident  that  the  oxen  did  not  relish  the 
prospect  of  the  rushing  current,  whirling  its  dark  mass 
of  eddying,  gurgling  water  before  them,  for  they  dis- 
played decided  reluctance  to  begin  the  trip. 

It  was  a  scene  full  of  color  and  life.  Those  who 
were  not  employed  in  other  tasks  gathered  to  wit- 
ness it. 

At  the  edge  of  the  water  the  cattle  paused  defiantly, 
their  front  legs  braced  in  an  attitude  of  firm  resist- 
ance. The  men  and  boys  with  shouting  and  blows 
sought  to  force  them  in.  Feeling  their  footing  give 
way  on  the  brink  of  the  current,  the  frightened  ani- 
mals  faced  about  and  strove  to  return;  they  struggled 

164 


BITS    OF     COLOR     BY    THE     WAY 

in   wavering   confusion,    and   a   stampede   seemed   im- 
minent. 

Then  ensued  a  battle  between  human  will  and  un- 
reasoning brute  force.  The  hubbub  was  terrific;  those 
on  the  bank  took  part  in  it.  The  "geeing"  and  "haw- 
ing" of  the  raw  teamsters  and  the  awkward  prodding 
of  the  goads  were  reinforced  by  shouting,  yelling, 
screaming,  and  vociferous  pelting  and  pounding  by 
the  crowd  upon  the  bank.  The  rearmost  steers,  ter- 
rified by  the  din,  pressed  heavily  upon  those  in  front, 
who  could  no  longer  resist,  and  at  last,  one  by  one, 
they  took  the  plunge.  A  few  more  ineffectual  efforts 
to  return,  and  then  the  whole  herd  struck  out  across 
the  current. 

Carissa  held  her  breath  with  terror,  while  Maggie 
looked  on  with  delight,  as  Tom  Sutter  leaped  to  the 
back  of  a  huge  bull  floundering  in  the  water,  bent 
upon  getting  back  to  land.  With  a  sharp  goad  he 
turned  his  head  across  the  current  and  forced  him  on. 

"Ain't  that  splendid?"  exclaimed  Maggie. 

"No,"  answered  Carissa.  "There  is  too  much  dan- 
ger in  it  to  please  me." 

The  routine  of  travel  soon  became  a  matter  of 
course.  They  made  about  fifteen  miles  a  day.  There 
were  frequent  stoppages  for  broken  wagons.  The 
most  common  accidents  were  loose  tires  and  shat- 
tered wheels.  There  was  no  sickness,  and  all  were  in 
the  best  of  spirits.  Parties  on  horseback  rode  forward 
each  day  to  select  a  place  for  camping,  as  it  was  essen- 
tial that  pasturage  for  the  sheep  and  oxen  should  be 
secured. 

When  they  began  to  climb  the  sand  hills  near  the 
Loup  River,  the  wind' was  blowing  furiously,  and  the 

165 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

wisdom  of  Elder  Carson's  advice  was  made  evident. 
Goggles  and  veils  were  in  great  demand,  and  those 
who  did  not  have  them  suffered  extremely,  for  the 
air  was  filled  with  sharp  particles  of  sand  that  were 
driven  with  blinding  force  by  the  wind.  The  oxen, 
however,  toiled  steadily  onward,  having  become  by 
this  time  well  broken  in,  and  many  of  the  pilgrims 
sheltered  themselves  behind  the  wagons,  and  with 
bent  heads,  were  almost  suffocated  with  dust. 

Riding  past  Quibble's  wagon,  Brand  saw  the  group 
of  women  that  composed  the  party,  following  closely 
with  bowed  heads,  while  a  monotonous,  mournful  mur- 
mur came  from  one  in  the  midst. 

"What  mumming  is  this?"  he  wondered,  and  then 
caught  the  words  in  grief-stricken  reiteration: 

"I'm  sorry  he  died!     I'm  sorry  he  died!" 

He  pulled  up  sharply.     "What's  that?"  he  said. 

A  laughing  face  was  turned  up  to  him.  Maggie's 
eyes  sparkled  with  mirth,  as  she  replied: 

"Did  you  never  see  an  old  country  funeral,  where 
real  mourners  are  scarce,  and  they  have  to  use  hired 
ones?  This  business  reminded  me  of  it,  and  the  old 
refrain  came  quite  naturally." 

He  had  ere  this  felt  the  contagion  of  her  high  spir- 
its and  cheery  good-nature.  She  was  the  life  of  the 
camp,  and  the  camp-fire  where  she  presided  was  a 
favorite  resort  for  the  wearied  and  disheartened  as 
well  as  for  the  laughter-loving  and  gay. 

Occasionally  Brand  joined  the  group,  and  enjoyed 
her  merry  sallies  of  unconscious  humor,  born  of  per- 
fect health  and  a  wholesome  nature. 

He  now  regulated  the  pace  of  his  horse  to  the  slow 
toiling  of  the  heavy  wagon.     Quibble  had  resumed  his 

166 


BITS    OF     COLOR     BY    THE     WAY 

work  as  teamster,  and  his  well  practiced  words  of  com- 
mand came  monotonously  but  rhythmically  to  their 
ears.  Morey  and  young  Cassady  were  on  ahead  with 
the  sheep  herders. 

"This  flurry  will  soon  be  over,"  he  said,  pointing 
forward.  "The  crest  of  the  hill  is  just  beyond,  and 
then  we  have  a  fine  level  road,  I  am  told,  as  far  as 
Prairie  Creek." 

"Won't  it  be  delightful  to  plunge  one's  face  and 
arms  into  the  clear,  cool  water.  We  certainly  shall 
need  it  after  this."  She  tossed  her  hair  back  from 
her  eyes.  "See — we're  all  one  color  now,  ashy  gray, 
but  my  face  feels  as  though  it  had  been  pricked  by  a 
million  needles." 

He  was  watching  her,  with  unconscious  admiration: 
her  sturdy  stride,  her  wealth  of  animal  life.  The  pow- 
dery sand  had  left  a  delicate,  creamy  coating  on  the 
rich  coloring  of  her  cheeks;  the  half  closing  of  the 
eyes,  in  instinctive  protection  against  the  flying  par- 
ticles, permitted  the  long,  thick  lashes,  powdery  also, 
to  be  seen  in  all  their  beauty.  But  it  was  her  attitude 
that  attracted  him,  the  unstudied  grace  of  every 
movement,  and  what  was  more  than  a  suggestion  of 
ripening  womanhood,  that  was  conveyed  by  every  out- 
line, tone  and  look. 

"Not  yet,  perhaps,  but  soon  she  will  ripen  into  a 
woman  of  the  most  seductive  kind,"  thought  Brand. 

Touching  his  horse,  he  rode  on  to  the  wagon  where 
Carissa  and  his  mother  were  sitting. 

"Here,  Carissa,  hand  me  out  the  youngster,  will 
you?  That  vile  sand  storm  is  now  behind  us.  I'm 
going  ahead,  to  see  how  Morey  and  the  men  are  get- 
ting on  with  the  sheep." 

167 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"Hold  him  carefully,"  cried  Carissa,  as  she  held  out 
the  crowing  youngster. 

"Never  you  fear.  He'll  be  as  safe  in  my  arms  as  in 
his  bed,  and  it's  time  he  was  learning  to  ride." 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  was  a  small  stream,  crossed 
by  a  narrow  bridge.  As  the  ascent  was  very  steep, 
Brand  instructed  the  teamsters  to  allow  no  persons  to 
remain  in  the  wagons,  and  requested  Carson  to  stop 
and  see  that  the  instructions  were  attended  to. 

On  he  rode,  Moroni,  delighted  with  the  quick  mo- 
tion, tossing  his  arms  and  crowing  with  pleasure. 
When  some  distance  ahead  of  the  foremost  wagon,  he 
caught  sight  of  a  herd  of  antelope  far  to  the  right, 
near  the  foot  of  a  low  range  of  hills. 

"We'll  pitch  camp  early  and  send  the  boys  out  for 
fresh  meat,"  he  said  to  himself. 

•  Soon  he  caught  sight  of  the  hot  sheep  on  the  trail, 
snatching  where  they  could  at  short  bunches  of  grass 
and  overhanging  bushes. 

"When  you  cross  the  next  stream  slow  up  a  little, 
Brother  Morey,  and  let  them  feed.  I  think  there  must 
be  a  good  camping  place  over  yonder." 

He  pointed  to  where  a  line  of  green  indicated  the 
presence  of  a  good  stream. 

"If  you  have  any  men  with  you  that  know  how  to  use 
the  rifle,  you  had  better  tell  them  to  be  in  readiness. 
I  will  send  Sutter  and  two  or  three  others  from  the 
wagons,  and  perhaps  we  can  bag  an  antelope  or  two." 

Morey  looked  up  heavily.  There  was  scarcely  a 
trace  of  animation  in  his  face,  certainly  no  such  inter- 
est as  might  be  expected  at  such  an  announcement. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  and  directed   his   attention  to 

the  sheep. 

168 


BITS    OF    COLOR    BY    THE    WAY 

"She  does  not  get  her  vivacity  from  him,"  he 
thought.     "He  is  the  surliest  fellow  in  the  crowd." 

And  then  as  he  looked  down  into  his  boy's  laughing 
face,  "I  wonder  what  heredity  and  circumstance  will 
do  for  you,  my  lad." 

He  rode  slowly  back  and  calling  Sutter  to  him, 
asked  him  to  take  charge  of  the  hunting  party. 

It  was  about  two  hours  before  sundown  when  the 
company  of  antelope  hunters  left  the  wagons.  For- 
tunately the  wind  was  toward  the  river.  Keeping  it  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  their  faces,  they  approached  the 
herd,  the  train  moving  on  in  the  meanwhile  to  the 
designated  camping  ground. 

It  was  dusk  before  the  camp  arrangements  were  per- 
fected for  the  night.  The  breeze  had  died  down,  the 
air  was  hot  and  oppressive,  few  fires  had  been  built, 
and  those  only  for  necessary  cooking  and  to  keep  off 
the  swarms  of  mosquitoes  that  came  up  from  the  river. 
Brand  and  Carissa  were  standing  by  the  wagon.  Sev- 
eral shots  had  been  heard  some  time  before,  in  the 
distance. 

"They  must  have  got  something,  or  they  would  have 
been  here  before  this,"  remarked  Brand. 

Suddenly  a  rifle  shot  rang  out  close  to  the  camp. 
A  blood-curdling  yell,  as  from  a  hundred  savage 
throats,  sounded  from  the  direction  of  the  cattle  cor- 
ral followed  by  several  shots. 

"Oh,  what  is  it?"  cried  Carissa,  clutching  her  hus- 
band's arm. 

He  lifted  her  hurriedly  into  the  wagon,  and  reached 
for  his  rifle. 

"Stay  there,  dear,  get  clear  in,"  he  said,  quickly. 

Two  or  three  men  rushed  in;  they  were  some  of  the 

169 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


cattle  herders.  "Indians!"  they  called  hoarsely.  They 
were  exhausted  with  hard  running. 

"Here,  Maggie,"  cried  Brand,  as  he  noticed  her 
standing  in  the  light  of  the  nearest  camp-fire,  her  head 
turned  as  if  listening,  "call  the  women  of  your  party, 
and  get  in  here  with  Mrs.  Brand,  quick!" 

The  regular  camp  arrangements  were  well  calculated 
for  defense.  Brand  knew  this,  and  that,  in  all  proba- 
bility, no  danger  threatened  the  emigrants.  His 
thought  was  of  the  cattle,  and  of  the  probable 
defense  that  would  be  made  in  the  absence  of  the  ser- 
geant of  the  guard,  Sutter,  who  was  by  far  their  most 
capable  man. 

Calling  together  the  three  or  four  men  who  had 
appeared  with  arms  in  their  hands,  he  led  them  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  shots  had  come.  He  had 
gone  but  a  short  distance  when  a  terror-stricken  figure 
that  proved  to  be  young  Cassady,  appeared  with  the 
unwelcome  news  that  about  one  hundred  of  the  cattle 
had  been  cut  off,  and  were  being  driven  by  a  band  of 
mounted  Indians  towards  the  foot  hills. 

"They  were  on  us  before  we  knew  it,"  almost  sobbed 
the  poor  fellow.  "I  fired  my  gun,  but  I  know  I  didn't 
hit  anything,  and  before  I  knew  it  they  were  off." 

"There,  there,  be  a  man.  Bring  me  my  horse,  will 
you?  Back  to  camp,  now;  we  need  a  bigger  party.  We 
must  get  these  cattle  back  if  possible,"  cried  Brand. 

A  party  was  soon  formed  of  eight  or  ten  untried  but 
brave  and  willing  men,  and,  bidding  those  left  behind 
to  be  on  the  alert  and  keep  up  heart.  Brand  led  them 
out  into  the  darkness. 

There  was  little  sleep  in  the  camp  that  night.  Car- 
issa    sat   thinking   of  her  husband  and  the  perils  he 

170 


BITS    OF    COLOR    BY    THE    WAY 


might  be  encountering.  Maggie  and  her  party  had 
retired  to  their  own  wagon,  which  was  drawn  up  in 
close  proximity.  The  whole  camp  seemed  strangely 
quiet,  as  if  suddenly  deserted  by  its  inhabitants.  She 
felt  the  loneliness,  and  at  times  her  anxiety  and  appre- 
hension became  intense. 

Gradually  the  camp  began  to  be  astir.  The  usual 
occupations  were  resumed.  Carson  called  the  people 
together  for  worship,  and  then  directed  the  teamsters 
to  prepare  for  the  march.  Carissa  overheard  the 
order,  and  hastened  to  him. 

"Must  we  go  on  before  they  come  back?  '    asked 

Carissa. 

"It  would  be  no  good  waiting.  Sister  Brand.  They 
can  join  us  as  well  on  the  march,  or  at  the  next  stop- 
ping place.  We  don't  know  what  direction  they've 
taken;  and  you  may  be  dead  sure  if  they've  gotten 
the  cattle,  or  have  to  retreat,  they'll  strike  for  the 
river.     They  may  be  ahead  of  us  now." 

"But  David  Sutter  and  his  boy— they  were  on  foot, 
and  have  not  returned.  Surely  we  should  wait  until 
they  join  us!" 

"I  have  sent  some  men  out  to  look  for  them,  but 
I'm  afraid  they  won't  find  their  scalps,"  he  remarked, 
significantly. 

Carissa  shivered  with  a  new  kind  of  fear.  Her 
imagination  had  already  conjured  up  every  kind  of 
danger  that  might  confront  her  husband,  save  this  one. 

Just  then  Quibble  and  Maggie  came  along,  walking 
beside  the  wagon.  The  girl  suddenly  pointed  to  the 
north,  and  exclaimed,  "I  wonder  what  it  is?  It  looks 
like  a  black  thunder  cloud,   settled  upon   the   edge  of 

the  hills." 

171 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Carissa  looked  in  the  direction  indicated.  "It's 
smoke,"  she  said.      "It  must  be  a  prairie  fire." 

Quibble  awkwardly  climbed  upon  the  wagon  and 
peered  around  the  canvas  cover  in  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing a  more  extended  view. 

"Smoke  it  is.  I've  heard  as  how  them  fires  some- 
times sweep  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other. 
I  wonder  if  I  hadn't  better  tell  Elder  Carson?  There 
is  quite  a  breeze  blowing,"  he  obser\'ed. 

"But  it's  blowing  the  other  way,  you  silly.  There 
is  no  danger  here,"  exclaimed  Maggie,  and  then  to 
Carissa,  "I  thought  I  saw  a  band  of  men  and  some 
cattle  off  there  to  the  left  of  the  smoke,  just  before 
you  came.     Perhaps  it  was  Mr.  Brand." 

Carissa's  heart  gave  a  great  throb  as  she  murmured, 
"Thank  God  if  it  was!" 

By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  a  good  camping 
place  was  reached,  and  Carson  decided  to  outspan  for 
the  night.  They  had  left  the  trail  and  had  found  a 
resting  place  a  little  way  up  a  small  stream  that  flowed 
gently  between  slightly  wooded  banks. 

As  Carissa  was  walking  about  the  camp  that  even- 
ing, betraying  her  anxiety  by  the  restlessness  of  her 
demeanor  and  the  pallor  of  her  face,  there  came 
to  her  the  Swedish  woman  whom  she  had  befriended 
at  Winter  Quarters.  A  new  look  of  sympathetic 
understanding  was  in  her  face;  she  had  her  baby 
in  her  tireless  arms,  but  this  time  he  was  asleep, 
his  poor  little  pinched  face  hidden  in  the  folds  of  her 
shawl. 

Carissa  had  learned  but  little  concerning  her,  except 
that  her  name  was  Hilda  Swensen,  that  she  had  come 
from   the  grip   of  grinding   poverty,   that  she  was  as 

172 


BITS    OF    COLOR    BY    THE    WAY 


grateful  to  her  benefactress  as  her  starved  nature 
would  permit  her  to  be,  that  she  seemed  to  love  with 
most  passionate  love  the  poor  little  bit  of  her  own  life 
that  she  always  carried  in  her  arms,  and  that  she 
watched  the  stolid  coming  and  going  of  her  husband 
with  the  look  of  a  woman  given  over  to  despair.  She 
had  learned  to  speak  a  few  words  of  English,  but  was 
usually  reluctant  to  use  them. 

"He — your  man — will  come  back,"  she  said  simply 
but  positively. 

"Yes,  sister,  if  God  will  protect  him." 

"You  have  been  very  good  to  me.  See,  he  sleeps 
much  now."  She  drew  back  the  shawl  and  looked 
into  the  little  fellow's  face,  and  then  held  him  close 
with  a  quick,  passionate  gesture.  "He  would  die  if  we 
should  wait  back  there.     We  had  little  to  eat." 

She  had  said  what  she  wanted  to  say  and  would 
have  turned  away,  but  Carissa  held  her.  She  wished 
to  draw  out  the  story  of  her  sorrow,  not  curiously,  but 
that  she  might  help  her. 

"Is  your  husband  happy  now?  He  will  get  good 
work  in  the  new  land,  and  you  will  prosper." 

The  old  look  of  hopelessness  came  back  to  the 
woman's  face. 

"I  know  not.  All  is  changed  since  last  year  when 
the  Elders  talk  with  my  man.  He  say  he  will  have  a 
new  wife — one  strong — healthy — young — from  these 
girls." 

"What  does  he  mean?"  asked  Carissa,  horrified  and 
indignant.  "He  surely  would  not  cast  you  off?  You, 
the  mother  of  his  child?  Besides  he  would  have  no 
right!" 

"Oh,  yes!     I   know   not,    but   Ole   say   he   can  have 

173 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

two,  three  wives  now  to  do  the  work  when  he  takes 
up  land." 

"But  that  is_ nonsense,  Hilda.  He  says  that  to 
tease  you.  He  is  cruel  to  say  such  things,  but  you 
should  not  believe  him." 

But  Hilda  shook  her  head  sadly.  "I  know  not," 
she  repeated,  "but  what  he  say,  he  mean."  She  went 
away,  as  though  to  speak  longer  would  be  painful, 
leaving  Carissa  indignant  and  perplexed. 

"I  will  speak  to  Eaton  about  it  and  he  shall  reassure 
her,  and  give  that  brute  a  lesson." 

Just  then  a  boy  came  running  into  camp;  two  or 
three  others  were  at  his  heels. 

"They're  coming,"  he  shouted.  "Some  men  driv- 
ing cattle  are  coming  up  the  trail," 

Immediately  the  camp  was  astir,  every  occupation 
was  abandoned,  the  whole  company  rushed  along  the 
course  of  the  stream,  until  a  clear  view  could  be  had 
of  the  trail  stretching  away  to  the  eastward. 

There  they  beheld  a  sight  that  gladdened  every 
heart — a  great  herd  of  oxen  was  being  driven  directly 
toward  them.  Carissa  was  sure  that  she  could  recog- 
nize the  form  of  her  husband  among  the  men  who  were 
driving  them.  She  turned  to  Maggie,  who  had  run  by 
her  side  and  was  now  standing  with  her  hands  upon 
her  hips  and  a  happy  look  upon  her  face,  and  said: 

"Thank  God,  they  have  come!  Oh,  Maggie,  I 
have  been  so  anxious!" 

"I  knew  they  would  be  successful.  Mr.  Brand  is 
not  one  to  be  beaten!"  responded  the  girl,  with  a  note 
of  triumph  in  her  voice  that  smote  Carissa's  heart  with 
a  sudden  pang. 

And  soon  the  weary,  panting  cattle  passed  through 

174 


BITS    OF    COLOR    BY    THE    WAY 

to  their  quarters.  As  Brand  came  near,  he  leaped 
from  his  horse  and  caught  Carissa  in  his  arms.  "Well, 
dearest,  we're  awful  hungry,  but  we've  taught  those 
bloodthirsty  thieves  a  lesson  they'll  not  soon  forget," 
he  said,  while  Carissa  was  all  blushes  and  happy 
tears. 


175 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BREAKING   GROUND 

An  interesting  tableau  was  formed  round  the  camp- 
fire  that  night.  Brand  was  seated  on  a  box  by  the  side 
of  a  rude  table;  Carissa  was  on  his  left,  looking  up 
into  his  face,  contented  that  he  had  returned  in  safety; 
Maggie  was  in  the  front  rank  of  emigrants  who  were 
seated  picturesquely  on  the  ground;  Hilda  Swensen 
standing  in  the  background,  nursing  her  baby  and  fol- 
lowing the  movements  of  her  husband,  who  was  sheep- 
ishly talking  with  a  group  of  girls;  Quibble  pretending 
occupation  in  making  repairs  upon  the  canvas  cover 
of  his  wagon,  but  continually  stealing  furtive  glances 
at  Maggie's  glowing  countenance.  Other  groups 
there  were  with  equally  divided  interest;  many  of  the 
women  were  knitting  busily  or  engaged  in  patching 
and  darning,  while  most  of  the  men  had  some  little 
finger  work  on  hand.  Tom  Sutter,  the  center  of  a 
smaller  group  on  the  outskirts,  was  still  eating  vora- 
ciously. 

As  Elder  Carson  came  in  from  posting  the  guards, 
and  looked  upon  the  scene,  which  was  lighted  by  the 
smoking  torches  and  the  shooting  flames  of  the  camp- 
fire,  and  contrasted  it  with  the  unbroken  background 
of  the  night,  he,  too,  felt  a  touch  of  its  strange  and 
weird  magic.  His  eyes  caught  the  clear-cut  outline  of 
Carissa's  beautiful  profile. 

"There's  witchery  about  her  beauty,"    he    said  to 

176 


BREAKING      GROUND 


himself.  "She'll  be  a  big  addition  to  Brother 
Brigham's  parties.  I  wonder  if  he  will  covet  Bath- 
sheba,  and  send  Uriah  out  to  fight  the  Indians." 

He  glanced  at  Brand's  strong  face,  with  its  lines  of 
stern  will  and  determined  purpose. 

"He'll  have  a  hard  nut  to  crack  there.  Perhaps 
he'll  be  wise  enough  not  to  try  it." 

Presently  Brand  said: 

"I  guess  you  want  to  know  how  we  got  the  cattle 
back?  Where's  Brother  Sutter?  I  want  to  thank 
him  again,  before  you  all." 

"He's  over  with  the  cattle,"  said  some  one  in  the 
crowd. 

"Where's  Tom,  then?" 

"Tom,  come  here  a  moment.  This  boy,  like  his 
father,  showed  himself  quick-witted  and  daring.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  them  we  should  probably  have 
returned  empty-handed." 

Tom  fidgeted  with  pleasure  and  embarrassment,  which 
only  deepened  when  Carissa  turned  a  bright  smile 
toward  him. 

"When  we  left  the  camp  last  night  we  did  not  know 
which  way  to  take,  but  spread  out  and  made  for  the 
hills.  We  could  not  go  very  fast,  for  the  way  was 
rough,  and  we  had  to  let  the  horses  pick  for  them- 
selves. 

"Along  toward  morning  we  found  we  were  on  the 
right  track,  for  we  came  across  one  of  the  steers  who 
had  broken  his  leg  and  been  abandoned.  We  put 
him  out  of  his  misery  and  pushed  on  a  little  faster. 
Presently  the  wind  changed  and  just  about  that  time, 
off  in  the  distance,  we  saw  a  light.  At  first  I  thought 
it  was  the  sunrise,  but  it  was  too  far  to  the  north  and 

177 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

it  also  seemed  too  early.  After  a  little  I  saw  that  it 
was  a  prairie  fire. 

"As  we  drew  nearer  we  caught  sight  of  a  moving 
dark  mass  ahead,  which  we  were  sure  was  the  party 
we  were  looking  for.  It  was  not  long  till  the  day 
began  to  dawn  and  we  found  that  we  were  right. 

"We  put  spurs  to  our  horses  and  dashed  ahead. 
The  Indians  had  been  compelled  to  turn  back  on 
account  of  the  fire,  and  were  having  trouble  with  the 
cattle  who  were  almost  exhausted.  When  they  saw  us 
I  thought  they  would  fight  for  it,  for  they  outnum- 
bered us  three  to  one,  but  for  some  reason  they  gave 
it  up,  abandoned  the  herd  and  started  off. 

"It  was  fortunate  for  us  that  the  wind  changed  or 
we  should  have  been  in  a  dangerous  position.  We 
had  to  let  the  cattle  rest  before  starting  back,  and 
while  doing  so  we  fired  the  grass.  It  was  a  wonderful 
thing  to  watch  the  tongues  of  flame  licking  the  ground 
bare  before  us  and  spreading  out,  until  we  saw  a  long 
line  carried  swiftly  by  the  wind  to  meet  and  oppose 
the  other  line,  slowly  eating  its  way  in  our  direc- 
tion. 

"Presently  we  heard  a  rifle  shot  on  the  other  side  of 
the  curtain  of  smoke.  We  wondered  if  the  Indians 
had  been  circling  round,  and  we  prepared  for  defense; 
but  presently  we  saw  a  man  and  a  boy  coming  in  our 
direction,  trampling  through  the  charred  stubble  that 
was  still  hot  and  smoking. 

"It  was  Tom,  here,  and  his  father.  They  had  kept 
ahead  of  the  Indians,  and  finding  themselves  in  a 
direct  line  with  them,  had  fired  the  grass  in  their  faces 
to  prevent  themselves  from  being  taken.  To  this  we 
owe   the   fact   of  our  overtaking  them  so  quickly,  and 

178 


BREAKING      GROUND 

the  confusion  that  probably  led  them  to  abandon  their 
booty  without  a  fight." 

When  he  had  ended  his  story,  Brand  read  to  them 
the  27th  Psalm,  and  commended  them  and  their  for- 
tunes anew  to  the  God  of  Israel  whom  they  worshiped, 
and  who  had  safely  led  His  ancient  people  to  the 
promised  land. 

The  experiences  of  the  emigrants  were  similar  to 
thousands  of  others  who  had,  since  1847,  followed  in 
the  track  of  the  first  pioneer  band  of  one  hundred  and 
forty-three  picked  men,  who  had  broken  their  way 
over  plain  and  desert,  rivers  and  mountains,  to  the 
valley  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

They  experienced  much  less  of  hardship  than  many 
of  their  predecessors.  Their  route  was  mapped  out 
for  them.  IMany  of  the  rivers  had  been  provided  with 
bridges  and  ferries.  They  were  able  to  profit  by  the 
experience  of  others  in  determining  the  character  and 
quantity  of  provisions  that  were  needed,  and  were 
able  to  live  comfortably  if  not  luxuriously.  Brand 
found  his  time  fully  occupied.  While  on  the  move  he 
was  usually  in  the  saddle,  cheering  or  instructing  the 
men,  personally  guiding  the  heavy  wagons  over  the 
rough  roads,  superintending  the  wading  through  boggy 
places  and  deep  sloughs  and  the  difficult  passage  of 
unbridged  streams. 

They  were  encamped  one  day  on  a  stream  known  as 
Wide  Creek.  Here  they  found  a  rude  forge  that  had 
been  erected  by  some  former  band  of  emigrants;  oper- 
ated by  a  great  bellows,  the  handiwork  of  unskilled 
workmen,  it  was  nevertheless  in  effective  working  order. 
As  there  were  numerous  repairs  to  be  made,  a  halt  of 
two  or  three  days  was  thought  advisable.     Tents  were 

179 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

unpacked  and  set  up.  The  wagons  were  stationed  in 
the  form  of  a  half  crescent  facing  the  river,  forming  a 
large  corral  for  the  cattle  where  they  might  find  abun- 
dant pasturage. 

Men  were  sent  to  the  islands  of  the  river  to  secure 
wood,  which  was  burned  in  ovens  made  of  turf,  for  the 
manufacture  of  charcoal  to  be  used  in  their  operations. 

As  Carissa  was  standing  by  her  husband's  side, 
watching  a  raft  load  of  men  laboriously  pulling  their 
way  across  the  yellow  water  of  the  Platte,  she  noticed 
that  one  of  them  was  Swensen,  and  her  recent  conver- 
sation with  his  wife  came  vividly  to  her  mind. 

"What  a  brute  that  man  must  be,"  she  said,  "to  play 
upon  the  foolish  fears  of  one  who  loves  him  so 
devotedly!" 

Brand  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "Which  of  them, 
my  dear?"  he  asked,  laughing. 

"That  man  yonder  using  the  pole.  See,  he  leans 
upon  it  as  a  prop  more  than  he  uses  it.  He  is  Hilda 
Swensen' s  husband." 

"Yes,  I  see  him.  He  is  a  lazy  scamp,  for  a  good 
brother.      But  what  of  him?" 

"He  is  breaking  his  wife's  heart  with  the  most  fool- 
ish stories.  I  told  her  they  were  not  true,  but  could 
not  reassure  her.  I  cannot  fathom  his  motive,  unless 
it  be  to  make  her  miserable." 

"What  are  these  stories,  Carissa?" 

"He  says  that  when  they  get  to  the  valley  he  can 
have  as  many  wives  as  he  pleases,  that  our  religion 
permits  it;  that  he  intends  to  take  up  land,  and  that 
he  will  pick  out  two  or  three  of  the  young  healthy 
girls  from  our  company,  marry  them,  and  have  them 
to  help  him  in  his  work." 

180 


BREAKING      GROUND 

In  his  heart,  Brand  cursed  Swensen  for  a  blundering 
fool,  but  to  Carissahe  said,  half  jestingly,  "And  so  you 
are  bearing  the  burden  of  the  domestic  disagreements 

of  the  whole    company,     are    you?      That   won't   do, 

C)  > 
arissa. 

"But  she  believes  it,  and  the  thought  is  killing  her." 

"I  will  speak  to  him.  But,  Carissa,  have  you  ever 
thought  of  the  lives  of  the  ancient  patriarchs?  These 
men  of  God  had  many  wives.  Why  is  it  that  they 
prospered?  that  their  wives  were  happy?  that  jeal- 
ousy and  discord  did  not  mar  the  contentment  of  their 
homes?" 

He  employed  a  tone  of  banter  to  conceal  his  earn- 
estness.    She  replied  quickly  and  positively: 

"But  jealousy  and  discord  zvere  present.  They  not 
only  marred,  they  utterly  destroyed  the  contentment 
of  more  than  one  home,  and  the  happiness  of  more 
than  one  life.  There  is  no  picture  more  pathetic  than 
that  of  Hagar  going  forth  into  the  wilderness  an  out- 
cast, deserted,  in  abject  poverty,  and  alone  with  her 
boy;  banished  because  of  jealousy." 

"That  is  true.  Still,  are  society  and  conventional 
law,  or  is  God,  the  supreme  arbiter  in  the  final  question 
of  right?  That  is  the  point,  Carissa.  We  are  dis- 
cussing God's  dealings  with  a  people  long  since  dead 
and  gone.     Yet  certain  principles  are  eternal." 

Carissa  was  looking  at  him  earnestly.  She  could 
not  comprehend  his  motive  in  arguing  so  strangely. 
He  observed  her  close  attention,  and  determined  to 
make  use  of  the  opportunity;  but  he  was  very  guarded. 

"Every  human  relationship  can  become  poisoned 
and  embittered  where  God  is  forgotten,"  he  said, 
gravely.      "Society  abounds   in   evidence   of  this  fact. 

181 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

There  are  many  unhappy  homes,  where  the  husband  is 
set  against  the  wife  and  where  children  are  arrayed 
against  their  parents.  But,  where  the  spirit  of  God  is 
present,  any  human  relationship  may  be  sweet  and 
sacred.  You  may  be  sure  that  when  He  permitted  the 
patriarchal  order  of  marriage,  He  was  able  to  make 
peace,  contentment  and  happiness  prevail,  where  His 
law  was  obeyed.  You  believe  this,  do  you  not, 
Carissa?" 

She  nodded  assent  reluctantly. 

"Even  polygamy,  then,  might  be  still  practiced  with- 
out jealousy  and  with  domestic  harmony,  if  God  had 
ordained  it,"  he  continued. 

She  made  a  gesture  of  impatient  remonstrance. 

He  put  his  arm  lovingly  about  her,  and  added, 
smilingly: 

"So  you  see,  dearest,  it  was  not  the  institution  that 
caused  mischief  and  trouble,  but  the  unregenerate 
hearts,  selfish,  hateful,  jealous,  and  full  of  rebellion 
against  the  will  of  the  Lord. 

"But  come,  we  must  be  returning.  Don't  worry  any 
more  about  that  poor  woman.  I  will  speak  to  Swen- 
sen.  He  is  a  brute,  as  you  said;  and  yet  remember, 
dear,  if  God  had  ordained  such  a  system  for  His 
people  of  this  latter  day,  and  ?/that  poor  woman  were 
submissive  to  the  divine  will,  there  would  be  some 
compensation,  you  must  grant,  in  having  two  or  three 
pairs  of  strong  and  willing  hands  to  help  her  bear  the 
burdens  of  house  and  field." 

Carissa  was  indignant.  It  seemed  to  her  a  poor  sub- 
ject for  a  jest. 

"How  can  you  speak  so?  The  very  thought  is  an 
offence  against  her  womanhood.     He  might  pay  them 

182 


BREAKING      GROUND 


wages,   but   to   take   them   as   his   wives.     The  idea  is 
utterly  repugnant  to  her  and  must  be." 

"I  see  you  do  not  catch  the  force  of  the  conditions 
I  suggested,"  he  said  soothingly.  "I  was  in  my 
thought  transporting  that  family  back  into  patriarchal 
times.  This  repugnance  you  speak  of  would  have  been 
rebellion.  Believe  me,  when  God  makes  a  command, 
He  has  power  to  operate  upon  the  human  mind  so 
that  it  can  be  clarified  of  all  that  would  make  obedi- 
ence impossible  or  repugnant.  Do  you  not  believe 
this,  Carissa?" 

He  looked  down  into  her  eyes,  half  playfully,  half 
earnestly,  altogether  tenderly. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  startled,  and  yet  almost 
amused  at  the  turn  of  the  conversation,  and  little  com- 
prehending its  real  bearing. 

"I  suppose  that  what  you  say  is  true,  but  I  cannot 
understand  how  it  could  be  so." 

"Nicodemus  said,  'How  can  these  things  be?'  and  the 
Saviour  replied,  'Art  thou  a  master  in  Israel  and 
knowest  not  these  things?'  Dearest,  miracles  have 
been  wrought  not   only  in  Nature  but  also  in  human 

nature." 

They  were  silent  for  a  time,  and  stood  watching  the 
men  as  they  came  and  went  about  their  tasks.  Brand 
was  feeling  somewhat  elated  over  his  adroitness. 

Carissa  was  struggling  with  a  sense  of  sadness  that 
she  could  not  account  for.  Was  it  the  tedium  of  the 
long  journey,  or  the  depressing  influence  of  the  deso- 
lation of  the  country  through  which  they  had  been 
passing,  or  was  it  her  sympathy  with  the  sorrows  of 
an  unhappy  woman  that  oppressed  her? 

Finally  Brand  broke  the  silence: 

183 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"Do  you  remember  our  reading  the  other  night  of 
God's  covenant  with  Abraham?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "and  afterward  I  looked  up 
the  references  and  thought  how  wonderful  were  the 
promises  of  our  Father." 

"Does  it  not  seem  strange  that  our  God  who  changes 
not,  who  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day  and  forever, 
should  have  blessed  polygamous  Abraham?  and  con- 
firmed the  blessing  upon  Jacob  and  his  four  wives,  and 
upon  the  children  that  they  bore  him,  when  such  a 
domestic  arrangement  would  be  an  abomination  in  His 
sight  to-day?  Is  it  not  strange  that  this  same  God 
should  have  answered  the  prayer  of  Hannah,  one  of 
the  wives  of  Elkanah,  by  giving  her  such  a  son  as  Sam- 
uel, the  great  prophet?  and  later  have  given  to  David 
many  wives  of  his  own  besides  the  wives  of  King  Saul, 
and  have  even  blessed  his  union  with  Bathsheba,  by 
the  birth  of  Solomon,  who  should  succeed  him  on  the 
throne?" 

Carissa  was  startled  by  these  sudden  questions. 
"Do  you  wish  to  teach  me  to  doubt?"  she  asked,  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"No,  dearest,  but  I  want  you  to  see  that  the 
ways  of  God  are  past  finding  out;  and  that  it  is 
folly  for  us  to  say  that  that  is  wrong  which  He  says  is 
right." 

When  he  returned  to  the  forge  later  in  the  day,  he 
saw  Maggie  standing  a  little  to  one  side,  and  watching 
his  approach,  with  a  look  on  her  face  that  struck  him 
as  peculiar.  Immediately  the  thought  flashed  through 
his  mind,  "She  knows  of  this  plural-wife  doctrine,  and 
I  guess  she  doesn't  object.  She's  not  likely  to  say 
anything  to  Carissa,  I  think.     Still,  she  talks  with  her 

184 


BREAKING      GROUND 

more  than  anyone  else.  Perhaps  I'd  better  caution 
her." 

"Come  here  a  moment,  Maggie.  I  want  to  speak 
with  you,"  he  called  out. 

They  moved  a  little  distance  from  the  men. 

"You  have  heard  about  the  revelation  on  Celestial 
Marriage,  haven't  you?"  he  asked,  without  preliminary. 

She  was  confused  for  a  moment.  Her  eyes  sought 
the  ground.  A  quick  blush  deepened  the  color  in  her 
cheeks.  When  she  looked  up  a  faint  smile  quivered 
about  her  mouth.  He  thought  it  was  embarrassment 
caused  by  his  abruptness. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  told  about  it  since  we  left  Winter 
Quarters." 

"Who  told  you?     Swensen?" 

"No,  Elder  Carson." 

"Well,  do  you  approve  of  it?" 

"That  depends!"  she  glanced  up  with  a  resolute 
look,  almost  a  challenge,  in  her  face. 

"I  ought  not  to  have  asked  you  that  question,"  he 
said,  gravely.  "It  is  a  revelation  of  God's  will,  and 
as  such  must  be  accepted." 

"But  we're  not  sheep  to  be  driven  into  the  first  pas- 
ture that  opens  its  gates,  are  we?"  she  asked  with  an 
air  of  defiance. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean,"  her  voice  suddenly  dropped,  "we  are  not 
to  be  married  off  against  our  will,  are  we?" 

"Certainly  not,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "It  simply 
means  that  a  man  can  have  more  than  one  wife,  if  he 
finds  favor  in  the  eyes  of  more  than  one,  and  can  sup- 
port them." 

Maggie's  face  was  expressive  of  various  emotions. 

185 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

It  was  a  pleasing  face,  frank,  hearty  and  true.  Some 
of  his  former  impressions  recurred  to  Brand.  He 
liked  her  all  the  better  because  her  glance  failed  to 
meet  his  squarely,  in  spite  of  her  evident  effort. 

"Have  you  talked  it  over  with  anyone  [else?"  he 
inquired. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  now,  and  answered  with 
a  slight  laugh.  "Not  much,  but  everyone  knows  some- 
thing about  it,  and  of  course  there's  been  some  talk." 

"Maggie,  this  is  not  a  matter  for  idle  chatter.  Prej- 
udices are  often  begotten  by  the  careless  handling  of 
sacred  subjects.  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  you 
will  say  nothing  more  about  it,  until  we  reach  the  val- 
ley.    Will  you  do  this?" 

Poor  Maggie!  What  thought  was  it' that  suddenly 
flamed  up  in  such  vivid  self-consciousness  into  her 
face,  and  made  her  resolve  that  she  would  permit  no 
one,  not  even  Elder  Carson,  to  speak  to  her  again 
upon  the  subject,  until  they  reached  the  valley,  nor 
even  then  if  Mr.  Brand  should  wish  it  otherwise. 

Having  gained  her  willing  assent,  Brand  turned 
away  relieved. 

"No  one  else  is  liable  to  speak  about  it,  but  I  must 
not  delay  too  long,"  he  thought. 


186 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

A    DANCE   AT   FORT   LARAMIE 

Several  days  later  the  journey  was  resumed.  They 
passed  many  a  lonely  grave,  which,  by  its  simple 
legend,  warned  them  against  the  danger  of  straying 
from  their  comrades.  Their  pilgrimage  was  attended 
by  great  discomfort  and  many  difficulties,  but  they 
found  many  compensations  by  the  way:  The  out-door 
life,  the  wholesome  exercise,  their  splendid  health, 
and  comparative  freedom  from  accidents. 

Each  day  they  encountered  some  new  marvel. 
Armies  of  brilliantly  colored  grasshoppers  crossed 
their  path;  there  were  many  varieties  and  the  children 
hunted  them  with  great  glee.  Several  lizards  were 
caught  and  brought  into  camp,  and  as  the  beautiful 
little  creatures  were  quite  harmless,  they  were  kept  as 
pets.  Antelopes  made  their  appearance  almost  every 
day,  and  were  always  objects  of  wonder  and  admira- 
tion. 

Successful  hunting  parties  were  formed  on  several 
occasions,  and  furnished  the  means  of  great  feasting. 
Occasionally,  bands  of  Indians  were  seen  in  the  dis- 
tance, but  no  more  raids  were  made  upon  the  camp. 
Buffalo  were  sighted  in  twos  and  threes,  in  bands  of 
eight  or  ten,  and  at  one  time  a  herd  estimated  at 
10,000  was  pointed  out  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ash- 
hollow  on  the  south  side  of  the  Platte. 

They  were  now  approaching  Fort  Laramie. 

For  two  days  they  were  in  sight  of  Chimney  Rock, 
a  conical  elevation  about  one  hundred  feet  in  height, 

187 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

its  sides  forming  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees. 
It  derived  its  name  from  a  perpendicular  shaft  rising 
sheer  forty  feet  from  the  apex,  and  resembling  a 
gigantic  chimney. 

Concerning  this  curious  freak  of  nature  Elder  Car- 
son remarked  that  it  had  lost  something  of  its  former 
imposing  appearance. 

"The  first  time  I  traveled  this  way  it  formed  a  land- 
mark for  forty  miles,  both  up  and  down  the  river.  A 
few  years  ago  it  was  broken,  I  guess,  by  lightning. 
You  see  them  bluffs  yonder?  That  chimney  was  at  one 
time  connected  with  'em,  probably  formed  a  kind  of 
shoulder,  and  was  cut  off  and  fashioned  as  we  see  it  by 
the  action  of  water." 

It  was  not  long  before  they  came  in  sight  of  Scotts 
Bluffs,  which  presented  a  singular  and  striking  resem- 
blance to  ancient  palaces,  towers,  temples  and  monu- 
ments. In  the  evening  this  rocky  panorama  presented 
an  almost  miraculous  appearance,  illuminated  by  fhe 
rich  gold  of  the  setting  sun. 

Many  of  the  poor  emigrants  looked  upon  this  pic- 
ture with  awe,  as  at  a  glorified  vision  of  the  celestial 
city,  granted  in  order  to  encourage  them  to  endure 
with  patience  the  hardships  of  the  way. 

It  was  a  great  event  when  they  reached  Fort  Lara- 
mie. One-half  the  distance  between  Winter  Quarters 
and  the  Great  Salt  Lake  had  now  been  traversed.  They 
were  leaving  the  plains  and  approaching  the  moun- 
tains. It  was  pleasant  to  know  that  their  camp  that 
night  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  habitations  of  men. 

Brand,  Carson,  and  a  few  other  men  paid  a  visit  to 
a  small  trading  post  kept  by  two  Frenchmen,  a  short 
distance  back  from   the  trail,    and  the  sound  of  the 

188 


A    DANCE    AT    FORT    LARAMIE 

canine  greeting  which  they  received  was  heard  even 
in  the  camp. 

Hearing  that  large  bands  of  Indians  were  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Platte,  it  was  decided  not  to  cross  at 
Laramie  Ferry,  but  to  keep  on  to  the  South  Pass, 
although  the  way  would  prove  difficult,  on  account  of 
the  steep  ascent  and  the  many  sandy  hills. 

Brand,  however,  crossed  over  to  visit  the  fort,  which 
had  a  small  garrison,  and  on  his  return,  brought  with 
him  a  young  officer,  whom  he  introduced  to  Carissa  as 
Lieutenant  Osborne.  He  was  a  fine  looking  fellow, 
soldierly,  alert  and  frank. 

"I  have  come  to  invite  you  and  all  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  care  to  dance,  to  grace  our  poor  quar- 
ters with  your  presence  to-night." 

He  spoke  with  easy  courtesy,  and  waited  for  her 
reply,  hat  in  hand. 

Carissa  glanced  at  her  husband,  who  nodded, 
smiling. 

"We  shall  be  delighted,  but  you  will  have  to  permit 
us  the  travel-stained  toilets  of  overland  voyagers." 

"If  you  but  knew  our  desolate  condition  in  this 
God-forsaken  country!"  he  said  with  a  gesture  of  self- 
commiseration.  "Not  a  woman,  except  squaws  and 
half-breeds,  within  five  hundred  miles.  We  are  veri- 
table savages." 

"It  must  be  a  lonely  life!     What  do  you  do?" 

"Eat,  drink,  mount  guard,  tease  the  dogs,  quarrel 
with  the  Frenchies  at  the  trading  post,  drive  the  beg- 
garly squaws  and  children  out  of  the  compound,  varied 
by  the  occasional  excitement  of  punishing  a  band  of 
thieving  Indians,  who  have  robbed  some  emigrant  train 

of  their  cattle." 

189 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

The  comical  air  of  contemptuous  resignation  with 
which  he  spoke  was  amusing,  and  Carissa  laughed 
heartily  at  this  inspiring  outline  of  the  duties  required 
of  the  garrison  of  a  frontier  post. 

"Then  even  the  advent  of  a  company  of  emigrants 
forms  a  pleasing  break   in  the  monotony,"    she  said. 

"They  usually  stop  here,  as  this  is  the  best  crossing 
place  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  We  are  delighted 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  getting  up  some  entertain- 
ment, for  ourselves  as  well  as  for  them.  We  prefer 
the  Mormon  emigrants,  their  women  are  usually  in 
the  majority." 

"How  long  have  you  been  stationed  here?" 

"A  little  over  a  year.  Your  Salt  Lake  Valley  must 
be  filling  up  rapidly.  Thousands  of  people  must  have 
passed  last  year  and  this." 

"Yes,"  said  Brand.  "And  the  emigration  has  just 
begun." 

"They  show  lots  of  pluck,"  said  Osborne.  "Most 
of  the  people  seem  very  poor.  Your  company  appears 
to  be  unusually  prosperous.  But  tney  all  seem  happy, 
contented  and  hopeful." 

As  he  spoke  he  turned  toward  Carissa  again  as 
though  he  found  it  pleasant  to  look  at  her.  She  would 
not  have  been  a  woman,  had  she  not  been  pleased 
with  his  pretty  flattery. 

"Mrs.  Brand,  may  I  have  the  honor  of  the  first  dance 
with  you  to-night?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  with  pleasure,"  answered  Carissa. 

She  liked  this  young  officer.  He  seemed  such  a 
wholesome,  handsome,  big-hearted  boy. 

Brand  left  them  together,  and  went  to  inform  the 
party  of  the  entertainment   in   store  for  them.     The 

190 


A    DANCE    AT    FORT    LARAMIE 

captain   at   the   Fort  had  begged  that  all  should  come, 
young  and  old. 

Such  an  invitation,  after  a  long  and  toilsome  jour- 
ney, was  not  to  be  refused,  and  the  camp  soon 
presented  an  unusual  appearance.  The  wagons  were 
overhauled,  boxes  lifted  out,  clothes  unpacked  in 
search  of  costumes,  with  results  in  many  cases  highly 
ludicrous. 

Meanwhile,  Carissa  and  Lieutenant  Osborne  were 
talking  together.  It  was  a  real  pleasure  tor  her  to 
come  in  touch  with  a  nature  so  ingenuous  and  true. 
His  heart  was  full  of  repressed  confidences,  and  it 
needed  little  encouragement  to  induce  him  to  unburden 
himself  to  so  sweet  an  understanding.  It  was  an  index 
of  his  character  that  he  retained  a  tender  recollection  of 
the  old  home  that  he  had  left  so  far  awa}-,  and  that  as 
he  spoke  of  his  father  and  mother  and  sister,  the  tears 
came  unbidden  to  his  eyes.  Presently,  however,  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  said: 

"I  don't  know  why  I  have  spoken  to  you  as  I  have. 
I  forgot  that  you  were  a  stranger." 

"I  think  I  almost  did  the  same,"  she  answered, 
smiling. 

"Ha!  Mrs.  Brand,  that  has  done  me  good.  To  tell 
the  truth  I  am  baby  enough  to  have  been  awfully 
homesick.  But  I  must  go.  I  have  kept  you  for  hours, 
that  have  seemed  like  minutes;  and  Captain  Colton 
depends  on  me  to  make  arrangements.  Remember, 
you  have  promised  me  the  first  dance;  and  as  many 
more  as  your  sweet  charity  will  grant,"  he  said,  as  he 
left  her. 

It  was  a  strangely  assorted  company  that  was  gath- 
ered within  the  walls  of  Fort  Laramie  that  evening. 

191 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

The  dancing  was  to  be  on  a  portion  of  the  sun-baked 
clay  courtyard,  outside  the  barracks,  over  which  can- 
vas had  been  stretched  to  keep  out  the  night  air. 
Here  and  there  rude  spluttering  lamps  were  suspended, 
that  emitted  a  feeble  intermittent  light. 

An  attempt  at  decoration  had  been  made  with  flags 
and  bunting  and  green  boughs  cut  from  the  river  bank. 
At  one  end  of  the  cleared  space  sat  the  members  of 
the  band,  playing  national  and  popular  airs  as  the 
people  were  gathering. 

The  soldiers,  who  were  in  the  full  uniform  of  the 
frontier  service,  were  a  rather  rough-looking  set  of 
fellows,  although  smartened  by  drill  and  discipline, 
and  were  evidently  looking  forward  to  a  gay  time. 
The  majority  of  the  officers  were  young  men,  though 
Captain  Colton  was  beyond  middle  age,  and  had  seen 
much  service. 

Am.ong  the  visitors  almost  every  style  of  costume 
was  observable.  There  were  coats  and  waistcoats  cut 
in  Whitechapel  fashion,  along  with  nondescript  jack- 
ets, topping  all  sorts  of  nether  garments,  supported  at 
the  hips  by  anything  from  a  leather  belt  to  a  rope,  and 
tucked  into  the  well-worn  boots.  A  few  of  the  men, 
among  them  Mr.  Brand,  wore  the  red  Guernsey  shirt, 
common  among  sailors,  corduroy  trousers  and  top 
boots,  not  a  bad  rig-out  for  crossing  the  plains. 

The  dresses  of  the  women  could  not  be  so  easily 
classified.  They  were  such  as  would  naturally  be 
selected  by  the  poorer  classes  of  Swedish,  Welsh  and 
German  peasantry  and  by  the  working  people  of  the 
manufacturing  towns  of  England.  The  younger 
women  had  been  able  to  make  some  show  of  smart- 
ness with  their  neatly  darned  white  stockings,    clean 

192 


A    DANCE    AT    FORT    LARAMIE 

bright  petticoats,  gowns  of  lawn  or  gingham,  often 
well  fitting  about  the  waist,  but  faded  with  many  wash- 
ings and  from  which  the  wrinkles  had  been  hastily 
shaken.  A  few  only  could  boast  an  artistically  clean 
starched  collar  and  chemisette;  but  all  were  bright  and 
happy,  and  glowing  with  the  ruddy  health  of  their 
out-door  life  and  constant  exercise. 

The  children  were  there,  clinging  to  their  mother  s 
skirts,  wakeful,  wondering  and  eager-eyed,  their  atten- 
tion divided  between  the  entrancing  strains  of  music 
and  the  marvelous  appearance  of  the  soldiers  with 
their  gay  trappings. 

Next  to  Carissa,  an  impartial  observer  would_  have 
pronounced  Maggie  the  most  attractive  woman  in  the 
place;  and  it  was  not  strange  that  many  of  the  soldier 
gave  the  palm  without  reserve  to  this  bright  faced  girl 

of  their  own  class.  . 

Most  of  these  women  had  walked  five  hundred  miles 
through  dust  and  sand,  climbing  hills,  wading  creeks, 
struggling  through  sloughs,  helping  to  pitch  the  ten  s, 
gathering  wood  and  water,  preparing  the  meals, 
enduring  privations  innumerable.  But  these  things 
were  just  now  forgotten,  as  well  as  the  toilsome  jour- 
ney still  before  them.  No  wonder  they  were  inclined 
to  make  the  most  of  it.  There  was  intoxication  in  the 
call  of  the  violins  to  the  dance. 

Said    Lieutenant  Osborne   to  the  captain,   as  they 
stood  together  for  a  moment  before  the  signal  was 

^' -This  will  be  no  stately  procession  of  fashionables, 
in  tight  shoes  and  close-fitting  gloves,  following  the 
graceful  measures  of  the  minuet.  See  that  fine  look- 
ing girl  over  there;  she's  as  eager  for  the  fray  as  a  war 
^  ^  193 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

horse.  But  see,  there  is  Mrs.  Brand.  Let  me  take  you 
over." 

After  the  introduction,  Captain  Colton  remarked 
gallantly: 

"This  youngster  here  pleads  guilty  to  the  insubordi- 
nation of  having  usurped  my  privilege  to  the  first 
dance  with  you,  but  his  claim  is  not  in  force  until  after 
the  opening  cotillion." 

In  such  a  gathering,  partners  were,  of  course,  chosen 
in  most  cases  at  random  or  in  response  to  the  individ- 
ual invitation  of  a  pair  of  bright  eyes.  Happy  hearts, 
lithe  figures,  and  nimble  feet  had  it  all  their  own  way, 
while  such  old  favorite  figures  as  Virginia  reel,  Copen- 
hagen jig,  and  French  fours  were  executed  with  unflag- 
ging zest  and  spirit. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  Carissa  to  abandon  herself  to 
the  occasion.  Perplexing  questions  were  forgotten, 
harassing  thoughts  were  put  away,  it  all  seemed  to  her 
natural,  innocent  and  wholesome.  Brand  did  not 
dance  himself,  but  he  wished  her  to  do  so,  and  took 
delight  in  her  enjoyment. 

"This  has  been  a  great  pleasure,"  she  said  to 
Osborne  during  a  pause  in  the  music.  "But  I  am  out 
of  practice  and  I  find  it  just  a  little  fatiguing." 

"You  dance  perfectly.  I  should  never  tire  with  you 
for  a  partner.  May  I  venture?  I  have  told  you  all 
about  my  people.  Will  you  tell  me  about  yours? 
How  came  you  here?     Were  you  born  a  Mormon?" 

He  detected  a  quick  change  of  expression,  a  subtle 
summoning  of  reserve. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  continued,  "I  shall  never  see  you 
again  in  all  probability.  I  am  not  simply  curious  con- 
cerning you.    When  I  think  of  you,  as  I  shall,  I  should 

194 


A    DANCE    AT     FORT     LARAMIE 

like  to  do  so  without  this  puzzlement.  You  are  so 
different,  not  only  from  the  people  of  your  own  party, 
but  from  all  others  of  your  faith  that  I  have  ever  seen." 

"I  knew  nothing  of  this  faith  until  I  met  Mr.  Brand. 
He  came  to  our  home  in  England,  two  years  ago.  But 
these  people  are  my  people  now,"  said  Carissa,  with  a 
little  laugh. 

"And  do  you  believe  it  all?" 

"Why  do  you  ask?" 

"It  seems  so  foreign  to  you.  There  is  so  much  that  I 
should  have  thought  you  would  have  drawn  up  at." 

"It  is  not  wise  to  believe  all  that  one  hears,"  she 
answered,  gently.  "We  have  our  enemies,  and  the}' 
are  most  unscrupulous  in  circulating  slanders." 

"They  must  have  been  slanders  since  you  are  con- 
tent— and  yet " 

"These  reports  seem  to  have  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion. Talk  with  ]\Ir.  Brand.  You  can  do  so  freely, 
and  you  can  trust  him.      He  will  tell  you  the  truth." 

"I  would  rather  talk  with  you,"  laughed  Osborne. 
"You  don't  think  it  right,  or  religious,  for  a  man  to 
have  more  than  one  wife? 

"Certainly  not!"  said  Carissa,  and  her  color  deep- 
ened a  little. 

"But  you  know  what  they  say?  That  President 
Young  has  more  than  a  dozen  in  Salt  Lake  City. 
Everybody  knows  it.      Nobody  denies  it." 

Now  Carissa  was  deeply  angered.  "Let  us  find  my 
husband,"  she  said,  coldly. 

"Forgive  me.  I  should  have  known  it  was  false. 
But  it  has  been  printed  as  an  article  of  their  faith — 
will  you  believe  me?  But  I  will  not  believe  it,  and  I 
will  from  this  time  give  it  steady  denial." 

195 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

His  pleading  was  so  impulsively  boyish  and  sincere 
that  her  anger  vanished.  She  caught  his  expression  of 
honest  contrition. 

"Yes,  I  forgive  you,"  she  said,  and  then  added  with 
a  smile,  "have  we  gained  a  fresh  champion?  It  looks  as 
though  we  needed  a  great  many." 

"Yes,  by  Jove,  I'll  back  the  Mormons  from  this  on — 
for  your  sake,"  exclaimed  Osborne. 


196 


CHAPTER   XIX 
LOVE   AND   SCRUPLES 

The  caravan  toiled  along,  day  after  day.  They 
skirted  the  edge  of  the  Wind  River  Chain  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  whose  granite  walls  frowned  down  upon 
them  in  massive  grandeur.  About  a  mile  beyond 
Rock  Independence  they  forded  the  Sweet  Water 
River,  and  following  its  banks,  passed  through  the 
narrow  cleft  or  gorge  called  "Devil's  Gate." 

For  several  days  after  leaving  Devil's  Gate,  the  trail 
crossed  rocky  ridges  exceedingly  rough  and  danger- 
ous. They  were  approaching  the  summit  of  the  Great 
Divide;  the  air  was  dry  and  invigorating,  but  they 
found  the  nights  exceedingly  cold,  and  extra  blankets 
were  in  great  demand.  Wood  was  scarce  and  the 
buffalo  chips,  that  had  formed  the  fuel  many  a  night 
and  morning  on  the  plains,  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 
It  was  soon  after  their  passage  of  the  South  Pass 
that  Maggie  came  running  up  to  the  wagon  where 
Carissa  was  sitting,  and  called  out: 

"See,  Mrs.  Brand,  we  have  passed  the  summit  at 
last.     The  streams  no  longer  run  to  meet  us." 

Brand  made  his  appearance  with  half  a  dozen  prairie 
hens  that  he  had  shot. 

''It  is  curious  how  these  birds  can  find  a  congenial 
home  7,000  feet  above  sea  level,"  he  said.  "They  are 
very  similar  to  the  wild  hens  of  the  States  and  there 

are  hundreds  of  them." 

197 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"We  saw  two  or  three  large  birds  this  morning.  I 
think  they  were  eagles,"  said  Maggie. 

"Yes,  yonder  peaks  are  their  home,"  said  Brand. 
"They  fly  high  enough  to  be  able  to  look  down  into 
the  valley  of  the  Salt  Lake." 

"In  which  direction  is  it?" 

He  pointed  to  the  southwest. 

"We  have  just  crossed  into  Oregon.  We  have  a 
small  corner  to  cut  off,  and  then  we  are  in  God's 
Country." 

This  announcement  seemed  to  make  the  end  of  the 
journey  very  near,  and  Maggie  was  all  excitement. 
She  ran  back  to  the  party  that  she  had  left  and  com- 
municated the  intelligence.  All  turned  and  gazed  in 
the  direction  indicated.  It  was  an  unusually  clear 
day,  but  only  the  peaks  of  the  distant  mountains  lofty 
and  forbidding  could  be  seen. 

Quibble  slowly  shook  his  head. 

"It's  a  long  ways  yet  and  a  steep  climb.  It  seems 
like  I  had  never  done  anything. in  all  my  life  but  fol- 
low a  great  lumbering  wagon,  and  shout  'gee'  and 
'haw'  at  a  lot  of  stupid  blundering  steers." 

Maggie  laughed. 

"That's  just  it,  Jock;  your  brain  was  a  floating  mass 
before,  but  now  it  has  hardened  into  ox-driving.  You 
ought  to  have  worn  a  flannel  night-cap  these  cold 
nights,  to  keep  it  soft  and  impressionable." 

"See  here,  Maggie,  you  haven't  given  me  a  civil 
word  for  weeks.  What's  come  over  you?  You  used 
to  be  sweet  enough  on  me  before  we  started." 

Maggie  tossed  her  head  disdainfully. 

'You're  so  tiresome,  Jock."  She  started  as  though 
to  rejoin  the  party  ahead. 

198 


LOVE      AND      SCRUPLES 

"I  see  how  it  is,"  he  said  sullenly,  "you  think  that 
because  of  that  damned  foolishness  about  a  man's  hav- 
ing more  than  one  wife  you  can  look  a  little  higher." 

She  started  and  turned  upon  him,  ashamed  and 
angry. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  get  mad.  It's  plain  enough  that 
you're  stuck  on  Mr.  Brand;  and  you  think  now  that 
he  can  do  it,  he'll  marry  you.  Perhaps  he  will,  and 
afterwards  get  a  dozen  more.  I  should  think  you'd 
like  the  prospect  of  being  one  of  his  herd."  He  spoke 
sneeringly  and  as  if  goaded  to  it. 

"How  dare  you!  you  contemptible  good-for-noth- 
ing." She  was  in  a  perfect  fury,  and  looked  as 
though  she  would  spring  upon  him.  Brand  riding  up 
caught  the  last  words  and  saw  the  gesture. 

He  drew  rein  in  amazement. 

"Maggie,  Maggie — what  is  the  matter?" 

She  looked  up  startled,  her  face  became  almost 
white,  and  then  received  the  blood  again  in  a  crimson 
flood.  Without  a  word  she  put  her  hands  to  her  face, 
and  ran  swiftly  by  the  wagons  toward  the  head  of  the 
column. 

"What  does  all  this  mean.  Quibble?"  Brand  asked, 
sharply. 

"You'll  have  to  ask  her,"  he  answered,  sullenly. 
"She's  been  picking  at  me  for  weeks  past,  and  I  just 
give  it  her  back  again,  that's  all." 

The  Cassady  girls,  who  had  heard  it  all,  looked 
frightened  and  said  nothing.  Brand  turned  his  horse 
and  climbed  a  hill  that  commanded  a  long  view  of  the 
road  ahead.  He  saw  a  flying  figure  some  distance  in 
advance  of  the  foremost  wagon,  and  thought  it  was 
Maggie. 

199 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"I'll  ride  on  and  make  her  explain.  If  that  fellow 
has  been  insulting  her,  I'll  teach  him  a  lesson." 

He  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  as  he  passed  Carson, 
who  was  mending  a  broken  wheel,  the  latter  hailed 
him  with  the  question:  "What's  up  with  that  Morey 
girl?  She  went  by  here  like  the  wind,  and  would  not 
stop  when  I  called  her." 

"I'm  going  to  find  out,"  Brand  called  back. 

Brand  found  her  seated  on  the  ground,  sheltered  by 
a  small  clump  of  dwarf  shrub,  her  face  in  her  hands, 
weeping.  She  did  not  stir,  although  she  must  have 
heard  the  approach;  nor  did  she  look  up,  while  he  dis- 
mounted and  tied  his  horse  to  a  bush. 

He  went  to  her  and  put  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Now,  Maggie,  what  is  it?" 

She  trembled  a  little,  but  said  nothing.  She  felt 
that  somehow  this  hour  would  make  a  difference  in 
her  life. 

She  was  sure  that  Brand  admired  her,  she  had  seen 
it  in  his  eyes  more  than  once,  she  had  thought  much 
of  his  careless  words  at  the  forge,  and  had  certainly 
attached  a  meaning  to  them  that  he  had  not  intended. 
She  loved  him,  she  knew  it;  and  the  sting  of  Quibble's 
words  was  in  the  fact  that  they  so  truly  interpreted 
her  secret  wishes. 

"My  poor  girl,  you  must  tell  me,"  said  Brand,  seat- 
ing himself  beside  her. 

Maggie's  tears  flowed  unrestrainedly,  and  yielding 
to  her  inclination  she  leaned  helplessly  toward  him. 
The  sheep  had  passed  over  a  distant  ridge.  The 
wagons  had  halted  beyond  a  spur  of  the  mountains  in 
the  rear.  The  man  and  the  woman  were  alone  in  the 
midst  of  a  wild  mountain  region,  where  any  display  of 

200 


£'^.  ^ 


e^>  £_  f -'  »"»■ 


K»ft;-=i3 


HE    WENT    TO    HER   AND    PUT   HIS    HAND    UPON 
HER    SHOULDER. 


LOVE      AND      SCRUPLES 

human  passion  seemed  strangely  incongruous,  and  yet 
this  human  element  was  more  dominant  than  the  natu- 
ral spirit  of  the  place  itself. 

Gently  he  lifted  her  face  from  her  hands.  There 
was  a  strange  light  shining  behind  her  tears.  He 
looked  at  her,  and  as  he  looked,  suddenly  she  reached 
up  toward  him  with  her  lips,  and  in  an  instant  his  lips 
met  hers.     As  they  drew  apart  they  were  both  flushed. 

"There,  child,  dry  your  tears,  and  tell  me  what  is 
troubling  you,"  he  said.  But  having  just  touched 
sincerity  for  a  moment,  they  both  felt  that  there  was 
the  ring  of  cant,  both  in  his  manner  and  his  words. 

"Nothing  now,"  she  said.  Her  look  of  perfect  con- 
tentment proved  the  truth  of  her  words. 

When  at  length  the  train  reached  the  point  where 
Maggie  was  sitting,  she  was  perched  upon  a  rock,  her 
great  sun-shade  in  her  hands,  her  face  aglow  with  hap- 
piness. She  was  singing  one  of  the  happy  songs  of 
Zion.with  which  these  Latter  Day  pilgrims  had  learned 
to  beguile  the  tedium  of  their  pilgrimage. 


201 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE    DISCLOSURE 

As  they  entered  Utah  territory,  a  shout  was  raised 
and  at  night  great  fires  were  kindled.  The  prayers  of 
the  Elders  were  unusually  fervent  with  thanksgiving; 
the  songs  of  the  people  vibrated  with  a  note  of  exulta- 
tion; a  fortnight  of  steady  progress  and  they  would  be 
at  their  journey's  end. 

The  Green  River  was  crossed  by  the  ferry.  On  the 
farther  bank  a  trading  post  swarmed  with  traders, 
gamblers,  and  Indians,  who  had  learned  how  to  profit 
by  the  inexperience  of  newcomers.  In  spite  of  Brand's 
precautions  and  Elder  Carson's  warnings  and  threat- 
enings  many  of  the  men,  rendered  keen  by  long  priva- 
tion, yielded  to  the  seductive  invitations  of  those  who 
sought  to  profit  by  their  weakness. 

Carissa  was  terribly  shocked  when  Quibble  reeled 
into  camp,  noisy  and  profane,  and  with  him  several 
others  whom  she  had  learned  to  respect  because  of 
faithfulness  under  trial.  Was  this  to  be  their  introduc- 
tion into  the  land  of  promise?  Were  these  the  men 
who  were  gathering  at  God's  command?  Brand  had 
fairly  driven  them  from  the  place  of  their  temptation, 
and,  having  given  orders  that  no  one  should  leave  the 
camp,  had  posted  a  guard  of  reliable  men  to  see  that 
his  orders  were  obeyed. 

As  Quibble  passed  Carissa,  he  halted  as  if  he  had 
something  to  say.  There  was  an  insolent  look  upon 
his  face  as  he  stood  there  steadying  himself  with  an 
effort.     "Have   you   heard  about   the   surprise   party 

202 


THE       DISCLOSURE 


your  man  is  fixing  for  you,  leddy?"  He  spoke  slowly 
and  with  drunken  gravity.  "I  hear  that  Maggie— she 
was  my  girl,  you  know — has  been  invited,  she  fished 
for  the  invite  and  she's  got  it;  there'll  be  a  few  others 
by  an'  by,  and  you'll  lead  a  merry  dance  together." 

He  was  in  the  act  of  shaking  his  finger  at  her,  when 
his  arm  was  suddenly  seized  by  Maggie,  who  had  been 
watching  him.  She  turned  him  fiercely  around,  and 
gave  him  a  vigorous  push  toward  the  circle  of  wagons. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  you  drunken  brute?  Get 
under  that  wagon,  and  wrap  yourself  up  in  that 
blanket,  or  I'll  drive  you  with  your  own  ox-goad." 

He  swore  at  her  and  raised  his  fist  awkwardly,  but 
she  gave  him  another  push  and  slapped  him  soundly 
on  the  cheek. 

"You're  a  pretty  Saint,  aren't  you?  Move  on  now  or 
I'll  have  Mr.  Brand  duck  you  in  the  river." 

Under  this  vigorous  treatment  he  obeyed,  while 
Carissa  watched  the  scene  with  a  feeling  of  indigna- 
tion. It  seemed  like  a  vulgar  nightmare.  She  had 
never  before  been  accosted  by  a  man  in  liquor.  She 
did  not  understand  his  words,  but  his  look  of  brutal 
insolence  was  something  not  to  be  forgotten.  She 
wished  that  Brand  would  come.  It  was  I\Iaggie  that 
came  to  her. 

'They've  been  drinking,"  she  said,  as  though  that 
would  be  a  full  explanation  to  Carissa.  "This  is  the 
first  time  that  Jock  has  touched  it  for  more  than  two 
years.  He  left  it  off  after  hearing  Elder  Kimball 
preach  in  Manchester.  1  can't  think  what  induced 
him  to-day." 

As  she  spoke  she  recalled  his  growing  surliness 
during  the  past  weeks,  his  smouldering  jealousy  ready 

203 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

to  leap  into  flame,  and  his  sudden  accusation  of  a  few 
days  before.  She  felt  that  she  could,  after  all,  under- 
stand his  readiness  to  yield  to  the  first  call  of  his  old 
appetite. 

But  she  only  said,  "I  heard  Elder  Carson  declare 
that  the  devil  had  planted  that  stronghold  at  the 
entrance  to  the  land,  in  order  to  try  the  fortitude  of  the 
Saints.  I  am  afraid  that  some  of  them  are  only  men." 
There  was  a  world  of  quiet  contempt  in  her  tone. 

It  was  hard  for  Carissa  to  shake  off  the  depression 
that  this  scene  had  caused. 

Their  route  lay  through  a  country  of  great  beauty. 
The  roads  proved  unusually  good,  and  their  progress 
was  rapid.  As  they  passed  Black  Fork  No.  3  they 
were  within  sight  of  a  range  of  bluffs,  which  fantastic- 
ally suggested  the  human  figure,  rudely  carved  in  a 
variety  of  attitudes  and  standing  out  in  bold  relief. 
There  were  mediaeval  warriors  in  battle  array;  women 
bowed  in  supplication;  cowled  figures  of  mendicant 
friars,  and  a  vivid  representation  of  a  modern  apostle, 
holding  aloft  a  crucifix  in  one  hand  and  a  book  in  the 
other. 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  the  loth  of  September, 
when  they  reached  Echo  Canyon  and  camped  by  the 
creek.  Carson  told  them  that  they  were  within  sixty 
miles  of  Salt  Lake  City. 

For  many  days  past  Brand  had  been  distraught  and 
anxious;  he  realized  that  no  more  time  was  to  be  lost. 
He  must  at  last  make  to  Carissa  the  statement  that  he 
had  kept  so  long  in  reserve.  As  he  looked  back,  he 
marveled  that  she  had  not  become  possessed  of  definite 
information  during  the  long  journey.  It  seemed  won- 
derful that  a  fact  which  had  been  in  the  possession  of 

20-i 


THE       DISCLOSURE 

almost  every  individual,  and  talked  over  in  every  group, 
should  not  have  been  communicated  to  her,  in  spite  of 
his  precautions.  He  wondered  if  she  had  in  truth 
learned  anything.  He  did  not  think  it  possible,  or 
she  would  have  questioned  him. 

Of  late.  Brand  had  been  troubled  by  the  conviction 
that  he  was  not  able  to  read  Carissa's  mind,  as  for- 
merly. Her  face  was  none  the  less  expressive,  but  his 
seer's  faculty  was  clouded.  He  found  it  more  satis- 
factory to  talk  to  her  after  the  evening  shadows  had 
begun  to  gather,  and  when  the  expression  of  the  feat- 
ures was  less  distinct.  It  was  his  turn  now  to  become 
depressed.  He  was  no  longer  sure  of  his  ground.  The 
thought  of  the  possibility  of  ever  finding  her  confi- 
dence in  him  broken  was  unbearable;  and  yet,  if  his 
deepest  belief  should  prove  true,  she  would  utterly 
reject  the  notion  of  the  sanctity  of  a  plural  marriage 
system,  and  might  be  hopelessly  repelled  by  his  advo- 
cacy of  it. 

But  what  was  to  be  done?  They  were  approaching 
the  valley.  She  could  no  longer  be  kept  in  igno- 
rance. Come  what  may,  he  must  tell  her  and  that 
immediately. 

He  led  her  one  day  up  a  steep  gulch,  branching  off 
from  the  main  canyon. 

"Carissa,  dear,  I  want  to  talk  to  you;  let  us  follow 
this  stream.  See  how  it  winds  in  and  out,  and  how 
fiercely  its  little  waters  dash  themselves  against  those 
rocky  fragments.  Some  lives  are  like  that,  never  at 
rest,  always  fretting  themselves  against  every  obstacle. 
You  are  not  so;  the  current  of  your  life  runs  deep  and 
strong.     This  is  but  a  shallow  stream,  and  therefore  it 

frets  and  rages." 

205 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"That  is  a  faulty  illustration,  is  it  not?"  said  Carissa. 
"Would  the  deepest  river  in  the  world  be  able  to  glide 
placidly  down  a  steep  incline  strewn  with  mighty 
boulders?  My  life  has  been  beautifully  guarded.  What 
have  I  to  disturb  contentment?  I  remember  the  sweet, 
fragrant  meadows  of  my  childhood;  and  since  I  have 
known  you,  what  has  there  been  to  cause  fret  or 
worry?" 

"The  parting  from  your  old  home — was  it  not  hard? 
The  severing  of  old  ties?" 

"I  did  it  for  love  and  I  am  satisfied." 

"But  you  have  cast  in  your  lot  with  a  people  you  do 
not  know." 

"They  are  your  people.  You  have  told  me  of  them, 
of  their  convictions,  their  hopes,  their  ideals,  until  I 
am  glad  to  be  counted  among  them." 

"But  you  have  found  out  that  they  are  poor,  unlet- 
tered; you  have  discovered  that  they  are  not  all  saints 
in  reality.  You  have  had  more  than  a  glimpse  of  the 
sordidness  of  their  lives." 

Carissa  thought  of  Quibble,  and  his  drunken  insolent 
stare  and  strange  menacing  words;  yet  she  replied, 
bravely:     "But  they  are  earnest  and  devout." 

"There  is  one  thing  that  I  have  tried  to  tell  you, 
Carissa,"  he  began  again.  "I  have  hesitated;  perhaps 
I  should  have  trusted  you  without  hesitation;  but  I 
wanted  your  faith  to  become  fully  confirmed.  You 
know  you  were  not  converted  to  the  faith  in  the  ordi- 
nary way." 

"You  should  know,"  she  replied,  gravely,  yet  with 
tender  emphasis,  "you  have  been  my  teacher." 

Her  words  sounded  like  a  reproach. 

"Carissa,    I  believe  with   all   my  heart  that  Joseph 

206 


THE        DISCLOSURE 


Smith  was  a  divinely  ordained  prophet  of  God.  There 
was  a  time  when  I  was  in  doubt.  I  had  come  in  con- 
tact with  men  of  other  beliefs,  who  scoffed  at  and 
ridiculed  his  pretensions.  They  did  more;  they 
sought  to  pervert  my  mind  with  specious  arguments. 
It  was  through  long  continued  fasting  and  prayer  that 
there  was  finally  borne  in  upon  me  the  conviction, 
that  has  continued  to  form  the  most  sacred  element  of 
my  life.  I  realize  that  this  conviction  of  the  divine 
authority  of  Joseph  the  prophet  is  not  as  strong  with 
you.  It  could  not  be;  you  have  been  instructed 
through  my  lips.  I  was  taught  by  the  Lord  Himself 
in  a  manner  I  could  never  gainsay." 

His  voice  vibrated  with  intense  earnestness.  She 
reached  her  hand  to  him,  saying:  "Have  I  ever 
doubted'you,  or  questioned  your  teaching?" 

"No,  but  I  feel  that  the  time  is  coming  when  this 
confidence  of  yours  will  be  put  to  the  utmost  test.  Tell 
me,  do  you  believe  in  the  divine  authority  of  the  rev- 
elations that  have  been  given  to  us  by  Joseph  Smith? 
That  they  are  to  be  received  even  though  they  contra- 
dict the  teachings  and  traditions  of  the  so-called 
Christian  world?" 

Carissa  bowed  her  head  in  a  cloud  of  confused 
thought.  A  crisis  seemed  impending,  for  Brand's 
questions  terrified  her,  and  seemed  to  be  a  summons 
for  her  to  prepare  herself  to  meet  some  terrible  blow. 

"Carissa,"  continued  Brand,  not  waiting  for  an 
answer,  "if  a  revelation  declares  the  will  of  God,  its 
wisdom  or  righteousness  is  not  to  be  tested  by  tradi- 
tion or  custom  or  conventionality.  It  does  not  ask 
permission  of  prejudice  nor  does  it  consult  the  untu- 
tored desires  of  human  nature.    Listen,  dearest.   About 

207 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

a  year  before  his  cruel  martyrdom,  the  prophet  Joseph 
received  a  revelation  which  startled  him.  He  hesi- 
tated to  make  it  known,  but  he  was  commanded  to 
publish  it.  When  he  communicated  it  to  his  counsel- 
lors, they  declared  that  he  must  wait.  The  world  was 
already  arrayed  in  hostility  against  them.  Such  a 
publication  would  but  call  down  upon  them  the 
unbridled  fury  of  their  enemies;  they  would  be  in 
danger  of  utter  extermination.  It  was  a  mistake  and 
a  calamity,  that  the  voice  of  these  counsellors  pre- 
vailed. God  withdrew  His  protection,  Joseph  was 
killed,  the  city  of  Nauvoo  was  besieged,  sacked  and 
pillaged,  and  the  people  were  driven  forth  into  exile, 
and  compelled  to  take  up  their  long  terrible  march  in 
search  of  an  abiding  place,  and  many  left  their  bones  on 
the  prairie  and  in  the  desert.  Had  they  been  true  to 
God,  and  not  barkened  to  their  fears;  had  they  pub- 
lished this  revelation  to  the  world  and  braved  the  storm, 
I  believe  that  God  would  have  stood  by  them,  and 
brought  them  off  victorious." 

Carissa  was  listening  with  much  of  the  old  look  of 
rapt  attention  in  her  face.  Brand  had  gathered  all  his 
great  powers  of  persuasion  for  the  emergency.  The 
spell  of  his  voice,  modulated  to  bear  his  passion  and 
enforce  his  conviction,  was  upon  her. 

"Carissa,  that  revelation  had  to  do  with  the  doctrine 
of  'Celestial  Marriage.'  I  have  explained  some  of  its 
provisions  to  you.  Unfortunately,  as  I  have  said,  it 
was  not  published  to  the  world.  It  was  reserved  until 
the  Saints  should  gather  as  a  distinct  and  isolated  com- 
munity, in  the  mountain  fastness  that  the  Lord  has 
decreed  should  be  theirs.  Dearest,  the  time  has  come, 
when,  in  spite   of  what  the  world  may  say,  in  spite  of 

208 


THE       DISCLOSURE 


the  base,  cowardly,  and  insulting  interpretations  that 
may  be  put  upon  this  article  of  our  faith,  this  holy 
revelation  of  God's  will  is  to  be  published  in  its 
entirety." 

There  came  a  sudden  hardness  Into  his  voice,  a  cer- 
tain indefinable  change  in  his  manner,  that  startled 
her  even  more  than  his  words.  She  experienced  an 
instinctive  drawing  away  from  him.  A  sense  of  horror 
chilled  her;  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  She  turned 
to  him  very  bravely  and  smiled,  though  there  was  a 
nervous  quivering  about  her  lips  and  her  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears,  as  she  half  whispered,  "Go  on,  dear, 
I  am  listening.  I  do  not  quite  understand,  but  you 
will  make  it  plain." 

"What  is  it  that  troubles  you  so?"  he  said,  almost 
sternly.  At  that  moment  he  knew  that  his  task  was  a 
hopeless  one.  He  read  her  mind  now  with  keen 
precision. 

"Forgive  me,"  I  am  very  foolish.  There  came  a 
sudden  memory  of  what  has  been  said,"  she  faltered, 
and  then  went  on  rapidly,  "those  horrible  slanders 
about  the  apostles  and  their  many  wives,  and  the 
dreadful  system  of  lust  and  sensuality  which  they 
practice!  I  know  it  is  absurd  and  you  will  forgive  me, 
but  coming  with  what  you  said,  it  startled  me." 

She  looked  at  him  beseechingly. 

"Dearest,  you  must  listen  to  me  calmly.  Yes,  I  for- 
give you,  but  do  not  let  your  fancy  run  ahead  of  my 
words.  I  am  telling  you  of  a  revelation  that  has 
come  with  authority  from  the  Lord,  by  the  mouth  of 
His  servant,"  said  Brand,  and  his  tones  were  like  a 
steel  file. 

Carissa's  face  grew  ashy.     Why  could  she  not  con- 

209 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

trol  the  trembling  of  her  fingers?  the  catching  of  her 
breath?  the  mad  beating  of  her  heart?  Because  she 
knew  only  too  well  that  the  walls  of  her  life — her 
faith,  her  hope,  her  love — were  crumbling  in  ruins 
about  her!  She  listened  as  in  a  trance,  her  eyes  fixed 
upon   Brand's  face. 

He  reached  for  a  long  stem  of  mountain  sage  and 
began  plucking  it  to  pieces. 

"I  told  you  that  the  time  would  come  when  your 
faith  in  God,  and  confidence  in  me,  would  be  tested. 
All  is  darkness  if  you  subject  the  revealed  will  of  God 
to  the  test  of  your  own  judgment  and  wishes.  All  I 
seek  is  that  you  should  suspend  judgment  where  the 
lives  of  others  are  concerned.     Do  you  understand?" 

He  tossed  the  mutilated  shrub  from  him  and  looked 
at  her. 

"You  must  understand.  Carissa,  I  must  not  crit- 
icize those  who  obey  God;  you  must  not  criticize  them 
either.  Do  you  remember  my  saying  that  if  God 
should  ordain  the  revival  of  the  patriarchal  order  of 
marriage,  He  could  make  it  a  source  of  blessing? 
Remember,  dearest,  it  shall  never  come  near  you,  or 
cast  a  single  shadow  across  the  threshold  of  the  home 
we  are  to  build.  You  know  me.  You  know  you  have 
all  my  heart.  Carissa,  dearest,  do  not  look  at  me  like 
that.  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  have  told  you,  with  some- 
thing like  despair  in  my  heart,  for  I  knew  how  you 
would  feel.  But  you  had  to  know.  You  could  not 
have  gone  down  into  the  valley  without  finding  it  out. 
Carissa,  I  love  you.     Won't  you  believe  me?" 

He  was  unutterably  shocked  at  the  white  stillness  of 
the  face  before  him.  Had  he  been  dealing  a  death 
blow  to  faith,    to   love,    to   life   itself?     He  arose  from 

210 


THE       DISCLOSURE 

his  seat,  knelt  at  her  side,  and  put  his  arms  around 
her.  She  did  not  shrink  away,  and  his  heart  felt  a  thrill 
of  hope. 

"Carissa,  I  have  not  changed." 

Suddenly  she  drew  back;  life  leaped  into  her  face; 
and  yet  how  changed  she  appeared  to  him!  She  had 
never  looked  like  this. 

"How  long  have  you  known  this?"  she  asked,  and 
her  voice  was  strained  and  hard. 

"Heber  told  me  of  it  when  he  came  to  New  York 
last  fall,  at  the  same  time  that  he  brought  word  for  us 
to  come.  I  could  not  tell  you  then.  At  first  I  scarcely 
believed  it." 

"Did  you  know  anything  of  this  when  you  married 
me?" 

"No." 

"Nor  when  you  brought  me  to  America?" 

"No." 

"Nor  when  you  denied  it  before  Mr.  Allen?"  Her 
tone  was  monotonously  accusatory. 

"No." 

"Only  when  you  knew  that  we  were  coming  to 
Zion?"  There  was  bitter  contempt  in  her  utterance  of 
the  last  word. 

"Only  then." 

He  was  desperate.  He  saw  her  slipping  from  him. 
His  answers  came  without  hesitation.  His  one  con- 
trolling impulse  now  was  not  to  convince  her,  but  to 
justify  himself.  He  put  his  own  construction  upon  her 
questions.  He  could  not  tell  her  that  for  years  he 
had  been  giving  public  denial  of  a  thing  he  knew  to 
be  true,  and  that  at  the  order  of  his  church. 

"Why  did  you  let  me  come?"  she  asked  wearily. 

211 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


She  sat  upon  a  ledge  of  rock,  upright,  her  head 
thrown  back,  and  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand  as 
though  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  all  things.  Brand  saw 
her  intense  agony  with  dismay.  What  should  he  say? 
It  seemed  to  him  just  then,  in  spite  of  his  training,  a 
monstrous  doctrine.  Revelation,  or  no  revelation,  it 
was  a  thing  to  be  abhorred.  Words  sprang  to  his  lips 
that  were  perhaps  more  eloquent,  if  less  true  to  his 
real  nature,  than  any  apology  he  could  have  framed. 

"Carissa,  I  hate  it  as  you  hate  it,"  he  cried.  "I 
will  utterly  reject  it  as  you  reject  it.  Come,  let  us 
bear  this  burden  together?" 

For  answer  she  dropped  her  hands,  and  looked  long 
into  his  face,  which  was  lit  up  with  passionate  sin- 
cerity. Then  she  reached  her  hands  to  him  in  mute, 
helpless  pain. 

Her  confidence  in  him  had  been  too  strong  to  utterly 
fail.  Something  had  broken  in  her  life.  Something 
had  gone  out  of  it.  But  what  had  happened,  she  did 
not  yet  know.  Only  there  was  a  sense  of  an  abyss  so 
deep,  so  dark,  so  appalling,  that  she  shrank  from 
exploring  it  with  an  abject  fear. 

As  Brand  folded  her  in  his  embrace  she  sank  limp 
and  helpless,  white  and  apparently  lifeless  into  his 
arms;  and  as  he  laid  her  gently  down,  to  rush  to  the 
stream  for  water,  he  noted  the  deep  lines  of  pain  that 
seemed  to  have  been  suddenly  chiselled  upon  her  fair 
young  face. 

Carissa  knew  nothing  of  the  rest  of  the  journey,  or 
of  the  entrance  into  the  valley.  She  tossed  deliriously 
upon  the  narrow  bed  built  in  a  recess  of  the  great 
lumbering  wagon.  Brand  scarcely  moved  from  her 
side.     Maggie  came  often  to   inquire,    but   Brand  had 

212 


THE        DISCLOSURE 

little  or  nothing  to  say  to  her.  His  newly  aroused  love 
and  devotion  for  the  helpless  figure  by  his  side,  pre- 
cluded all  possibility  of  wandering  thought  or  passion 
When  they  reached  the  city  of  the  Saints,  a  newly 
built  adobe  house  was  assigned  him,  and  hurriedly 
furnished,  and  with  his  own  arms  he  carried  the  wife 
whom  he  had  won  from  her  beautiful  English  home,  and 
laid  her  gently  down  in  their  new  home  in  the  land 
that  she  had  longed  to  enter. 


213 


CHAPTER    XXI 

INTRODUCTION   TO    THE   VALLEY 

It  had  been  more  sympathy  than  conviction,  together 
with  the  natural  desire  to  end  an  intolerable  situation, 
that  had  led  Brand  to  agree  with  Carissa  as  a  dissen- 
tient, during  the  scene  in  Echo  Canyon.  He  accepted 
her  point  of  view  for  the  time  being,  in  obedience  to 
the  law  of  self-preservation  and  in  response  to  a  deep 
stirring  of  pity. 

But  he  now  installed  Maggie  as  nurse,  and 
although  he  refrained  from  any  act  of  familiarity,  and 
avoided  any  private  interview,  it  was  pleasant  to  have 
her  about,  and  her  quick  step  and  bright  ways  were 
thoroughly  agreeable  to  him. 

One  day  when  they  had  been  in  the  valley  a  week  or 
two,  and  Carissa  was  much  better  but  languid  and 
depressed,  and  he  had  been  seeking  to  beguile  her 
with  glowing  pictures  of  their  surroundings,  she  looked 
up  at  him  questioningly,  and  the  thought  that  had 
been  with  her  for  days  came  tremblingly  to  her  lips. 

"Do  you  remember  what  you  said?  It  has  been  the 
one  thing  I  have  clung  to." 

"What  is  it,  dearest?" 

"You  said,  'I  hate  it  as  you  hate  it.  I  will  reject  it 
as  you  reject  it.'    Am  I  right  to  put  my  trust  in  that?" 

"Certainly,  dearest.  But  you  must  grow  strong 
quickly,  and  come  out  into  the  city.  You  must  see  for 
yourself.     It  would  not  be  fair  for  you  to  shut  yourself 

214 


INTRODUCTION      TO      THE      VALLEY 

up  with  your  preconceptions,    while    I,    in    mingling 

with     the     people,    see    nothing     but    harmony    and 

peace." 

•     The  pallor  deepened  in  her  pain-drawn  face. 

"It  is  the  thing  itself  that  is  so  terrible.  Don't  you 
see?  Oh,  husband,  you  cannot  think  of  staying  here? 
We  cannot  make  our  home  here.  How  can  we  meet 
the  people  and  live  with  them,  when  they  teach  and 
practice  such  an  awful  thing?"  she  cried,  with  shaking 
voice. 

He  was  amazed  at  the  persistency  of  her  opposition. 
He  was  also  afraid  of  giving  her  another  shock,  weak- 
ened as  she  was. 

"There,  dearest,  you  must  not  think  about  this.  I 
will  not  talk  with  you  about  it.  Your  one  business  is 
to  get  strong.  We  must  spend  the  winter  here  at  any 
rate.  The  canyons  will  soon  be  full  of  snow,  and  the 
trail  will  be  blocked  for  months.  There  will  be  ample 
time  to  talk  about  this  when  you  are  yourself  again. 
Dearest,  you  know  I  love  you.  Your  happiness  is  the 
dearest  thing  in  my  life,  that  and  the  welfare  of  our 
youngster  here." 

He  caught  up  Moroni  in  his  arms,  played  with  him 
for  some  little  time,  and  then  placed  him  on  a  stool 
at  his  mother's  feet. 

"Now,  my  boy,  I  leave  you  in  charge,"  he  said. 
"You  must  teach  mamma  to  smile  again  like  her  old 
self.     She  must  get  the  roses  back  into  her  cheeks." 

He  kissed  Carissa  and  went  out.  He  smiled  at 
Maggie  as  he  passed  through  the  adjoining  room,  and 
saw  her  plump  arms  flour-besprinkled  from  the  dough 
she  was  kneading,  and  walked  briskly  in  the  direction 
of  the  church  offices. 

215 


BY    ORDER     OF    THE     PROPHET 

He  was  greatly  attracted  by  the  life  of  this  new  city. 
It  was  not  altogether  as  he  had  pictured  it,  for  it  was 
unlike  any  other  growing  city  on  the  continent,  and 
the  conditions  were  still  crude. 

It  was  part  camp  and  part  pioneer  settlement. 
Many  of  the  people  still  lived  in  their  covered  wag- 
ons; many  of  the  houses  that  had  been  erected  were 
mere  shelters,  and  overcrowded,  while  only  here  and 
there  were  there  habitations  that  had  an  air  of  perma- 
nency. 

The  streets  were  very  wide.  Trees  in  double  rows 
had  been  planted  on  either  side,  and  were  watered  by 
rivulets  from  the  mountain  streams,  conveyed  by 
ditches  in  every  direction  through  the  city.  The  air 
was  keen  and  bracing;  the  breath  of  the  mountains 
was  an  exhilarating  tonic. 

There  was  no  idling;  all  the  inhabitants  were  busy. 
Hope  was  in  the  air.  Brand  breathed  it  in.  He  had 
been  warmly  welcomed,  commended  for  past  faithful- 
ness, and  entrusted  with  new  responsibilities.  Success 
hardened  him.  He  determined  that  Carissa  should 
see  this  life  as  he  saw  it.  He  would  not  allow  her  to 
indulge  in  morbid  fancies  and  unreasoning  prejudice. 

There  was  precious  little  culture  or  refinement  in  the 
valley,  it  is  true;  but  there  was  enthusiasm, — a  poor 
substitute.  Polygamy,  as  practically  illustrated  in  the 
life  around  him,  was  not  very  offensive,  he  thought. 
Of  course,  if  one  indulged  his  imagination,  there 
might  be  something  offensive  in  the  idea  of  one  man 
living  with  three  or  four  women  in  a  one-room  cabin; 
but  then  he  could  put  a  check  on  his  imagination. 

The  homes  that  Brand  had  entered,  and  to  which  he 
proposed  to  bring  Carissa,  were  well  ordered.     They 

216 


IXTRODUCTIOX      TO      THE      VALLEY 

were  large,  commodious,  and  well  arranged  for  pri- 
vacy. President  Young's  new  house,  for  example, 
afforded  ample  accommodation  for  his  fifteen  wives; 
and  he  was  building  another  adjoining,  that  would 
give  plenty  of  room  for  the  proper  disposition  of  his 
household. 

He  would  like  Carissa  to  see  how  courteous  and 
considerate  a  man  could  be  even  under  such  trying 
conditions! 

Brigham  observed  Maggie  on  her  first  arrival, 
remarked  that  she  seemed  a  likely  girl,  and  spoke  of 
giving  her  a  temporary  home  in  his  own  household. 
But  after  an  interview  with  Elder  Carson,  during 
which  it  was  suggested  that  Brother  Brand  was  not  an 
enthusiastic  advocate  of  polygamy,  but  that  he  would 
like  to  take  ^Maggie  to  wait  on  his  wife  during  her  ill- 
ness, he  reconsidered  the  matter. 

'Y^ou  will  be  doing  a  kindness  as  well  as  serving 
yourself."  he  said  paternally,  when,  acting  upon  the 
hint,  he  opened  the  matter  to  Brand.  ''I  expect  to 
have  use  for  Brother  ]\Iorey  and  it  will  be  advanta- 
geous to  the  girl  to  have  a  good  home." 

There  were  some  of  the  people  who  had  not  received 
the  new  revelation  as  enthusiastically  as  had  been 
hoped. 

It  is  always  a  bad  thing  for  a  religious  community  to 
be  divided  upon  a  question  of  doctrine.  Brigham  real- 
ized this.  He  himself  was  thoroughly  committed  and 
he  was  willing  to  make  personal  sacrifices,  to  a  limited 
extent,  in  order  to  secure  the  thorough  committal  of 
others.  He  saw  that  Brand  would  naturally  become 
an  influential  factor  in  the  community;  and  if  he  was 
at  all  favorably  inclined  to  Maggie   it   would  be   only 

217 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

right  that  he  should  have  the  opportunity  of  becoming 
her  natural  protector. 

"I  hope  that  your  wife  will  soon  be  able  to  take  her 
endowments,"  he  said.  "Of  course  you  are  anxious 
to  have  her  do  it.  The  privilege  will  be  granted  on 
application." 

Brand  said  nothing  of  the  cause  of  her  indisposition, 
other  than  the  fatigue  of  the  journey.  It  would,  he 
knew,  be  a  great  step  gained  if  she  could  be  taken 
through  the  Endowment  House.  He  made  up  his 
mind  to  prepare  the  way  as  early  as  possible. 

One  crisp  winter's  day  he  went  to  the  tabernacle 
accompanied  by  Maggie. 

"We  must  not  let  her  become  a  heathen  altogether," 
he  said  to  his  wife.  "I  am  anxious  that  you  should 
go,  too.  Haven't  you  been  cooped  up  long  enough? 
It  will  do  you  good." 

But  Carissa  only  shook  her  head  and  turned  away 
wearily.  Her  strength  had  returned  during  these 
months.  She  knew  that  an  exertion  of  will  and  a 
resumption  of  interest  were  all  that  was  lacking  to 
perfect  health;  but  these  seemed  impossible.  She  had 
observed  with  unspeakable  anxiety  her  husband's 
growing  interest  in  the  life  of  the  city.  She  saw 
clearly  that  he  was  attached  to  the  people,  and  was  firm 
in  his  faith,  and  the  hope  of  being  able  to  persuade 
him  to  leave  the  valley  was  daily  growing  weaker. 
More  and  more  she  realized  that  Brand  had  deceived 
her.  She  had  been  led  to  believe  that  he  who  had  sought 
her  love  was  the  champion  of  pure  Christianity,  as 
opposed  to  the  corruptions  of  an  apostate  church,  and 
to  look  forward  to  association  with  his  people  as  a  holy 
privilege;  for  he  represented   Zion  to  her  as   a  com- 

218 


INTRODUCTION      TO      THE      VALLEY 

munity  of  whole-souled  disciples  of  Christ,  who  would 
exhibit  all  the  primitive  virtues  that  marked  the  apos- 
tolic age. 

This  belief  had  not  been  disturbed  by  any  criticism 
or  persecution  from  without,  for  she  had  nerved  her 
heart  to  meet  these  things.  Had  not  Christ  been 
hated  and  rejected?  Had  not  the  early  church  been 
cruelly  slandered  and  persecuted?  She  was  content  to 
be  counted  worthy  to  share  their  sufferings,  so  that  she 
might  also  have  the  privilege  of  sharing  their  life  of 
devotion  to  the  truth. 

This  had  been  her  mental  attitude  during  the  first 
months  of  her  married  life;  and  so  absorbed  had  she 
become  in  her  love  for  her  husband,  fast  ripening 
into  reverence  and  her  devotion  to  his  church,  that 
she  had  given  not  one  regretful  thought  to  her  old 
happy  life. 

She  started  on  the  long  journey  overland  with  much 
the  same  devout  and  eager  expectation  as  characterizes 
a  Mohammedan  devotee  setting  out  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca. 

Her  illusion  was  first  pierced  when  Brand  began  to 
glorify,  in  the  Old  Testament  worthies,  conduct  and 
customs  which  she  found  it  hard  to  justify. 

From  that  time  there  had  been  a  steady  disenchant- 
ment, until  at  last  there  had  come  the  final  disclosure, 
that  polygamy — the  basis  of  most  of  the  charges 
against  the  Mormons,  charges  that  had  been  indig- 
nantly denied  over  and  over  again,  which  she  herself 
had  declared  to  others  were  false  and  infamous — was 
nevertheless  being  taught  and  practiced  by  the  Saints. 
From  a  loyal  defender  she  had  become  a  bitter  denier 
of  the  faith. 

219 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

She  found  herself  marveling  at  the  calm  air  with 
which  Brand  went  to  and  fro  among  the  people,  and 
when  she  discovered  that  he  fraternized  with  the 
church  leaders,  and  was  received  by  them  as  a  brother 
beloved  and  honored,  she  felt  a  distinct  and  withering 
distrust  of  him. 

There  were  times  when  it  seemed  so  impossible  to 
believe  that  he,  whom  she  had  regarded  as  the  noblest 
of  men,  was  really  associated  with  all  this  horror,  that 
she  began  to  doubt  her  own  sanity. 

There  could  be  no  question,  however,  that  Brand 
believed  it  all,  and  that  her  unbelief  would  simply 
constitute  an  ever-broadening  chasm  between  them. 
This  seemed  intolerable.  What  would  be  left  if  this 
should  be  the  final  issue?  Her  love,  strong,  true,  incor- 
ruptible drew  her  in  one  direction;  but  it  seemed  to 
demand  the  sacrifice  of  instincts  that  were  an  essential 
part  of  her  nature.  She  still  believed  that  he  would 
be  true  to  his  assurance,  that  the  foul  institution  of 
polygamy  should  never  curse  their  home.  Had  he  not 
told  her  that  there  were  many  monogamist  Mormons, 
and  that  in  this  matter  there  was  no  compulsion? 

Might  she  not  then  conceal  the  repugnance  that  pos- 
sessed her,  and  for  love's  sake  tolerate  what  she  could 
not  endorse? 

While  Brand  and  Maggie  were  at  the  tabernacle, 
alone  this  long  afternoon,  Carissa  debated  the  matter 
with  herself.  It  was  a  weary  struggle,  but  her  heart- 
hunger  made  love  to  triumph. 

Baffled,  broken-winged  love  gained  the  victory. 
Carissa  determined  that  she  would  gather  up  the  frag- 
ments of  her  happiness.  She  would  submit,  where 
submission  was   possible;  and   she   sought  to  pray  in 

220 


INTRODUCTION      TO      THE      VALLEY 

the  language  of  childhood  for  strength  in  her  desper- 
ate need. 

When  Brand  returned  he  found  her  unusually  cheer- 
ful and  seemingly  happy;  her  father's  Bible  was  open 
before  her  and  a  bright  look  was  in  her  eyes. 

"Dearest,"  he  said,  "the  services  were  wonderfully 
inspiring.     I  am  sorry  you  missed  them." 

"I  am  glad  you  enjoyed  them,"  she  responded 
bravely,  smiling  as  she  rose  to  meet  him.  "I,  too, 
have  spent  the  time  profitably." 

He  caught  the  suggestion  of  her  new  attitude. 

"What  have  you  been  doing?  You  look  like  your 
old  self.  Whatever  it  is,  I  shall  certainly  prescribe  it 
for  you." 

Sudden  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes.  How  intensely 
she  desired  that  every  barrier  should  be  broken  down 
between  them!  Impulsively,  she  cried,  "Oh,  I  do 
need  you  so  much.  You  know  that  I  have  trusted  you 
with  my  life.  I  have  been  wrong  to  spoil  your  happi- 
ness by  shutting  myself  in  seclusion.  I  will  go  with 
you  into  this  life  and  see  it  as  it  is." 

In  spite  of  herself  she  trembled. 

It  was  a  brave  effort,  and  Brand  was  profoundly 
moved.  His  better  nature  responded  to  the  appeal. 
He  believed  his  own  words  as  he  said:  "You  shall 
never  regret  it.  I  only  want  you  to  see  this  life,  and 
judge  my  people  understandingly.  This  is  a  good 
day,  Carissa."  He  held  her  in  his  arms  and  she  was 
happy. 


221 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE   LION    OF   THE   LORD 

There  are  very  few,  even  of  the  inhabitants  of  Utah 
at  the  present  day,  who  can  have  an  adequate  concep- 
tion of  the  conditions  that  prevailed  at  the  period  of 
which  we  are  writing.  For  half  a  century,  civilizing 
forces  have  been  at  work,  and  for  the  past  twenty 
years  the  peculiar  institutions  founded  by  the  first 
Mormon  leaders  have  been  subjected  to  modifying 
influences  from  without.  The  building  of  the  trans- 
continental railroad,  and  the  consequent  broadening  of 
commercial  relations  with  other  sections  of  the  coun- 
try, the  influx  of  non-Mormons,  the  work  of  Christian 
missionaries,  the  establishment  of  the  public  school 
system,  the  development  of  progressive  ideas  among 
the  Mormons  themselves,  and  the  separation  of  church 
and  state,  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  federal 
constitution,  have  all  had  their  part  in  eliminating 
those  features  that  were  grimly  characteristic  of  that 
time,  when  Brigham  Young  held  sway  as  the  "Lion  of 
the  Lord." 

The  Mormon  political  ideal  was  an  absolute  theoc- 
racy, and  in  those  days  it  came  very  close  to  realiza- 
tion. 

In  the  first  place  Utah  territory  was  anything  but  a 
republic.  Brigham  Young  was  more  than  governor. 
He  was  more  than  dictator  in  political  affairs.  He 
was  more  than  mere  president  of  the  church.  No  man 
ever  claimed  more  despotic  power  than  he  exercised. 

222 


THE     LION    OF    THE     LORD 

He  controlled  in  all  matters  of  state  and  municipal 
government.  He  was  sure  of  endorsement  and  unques- 
tioning support,  when  he  made  his  famous  declaration, 
"I  am  and  will  be  governor,  and  no  power  can  hinder 
it,  until  the  Lord  Almighty  says:  'Brigham  you  need 
not  be  governor  any  longer.'  "  He  appointed  places 
of  residence  for  the  people,  assigned  them  their  tasks, 
dictated  to  them  in  the  management  of  their  domestic 
concerns,  acted  as  umpire  in  the  choosing  of  their 
wives,  pronounced  marriage  and  divorce  at  will,  for- 
mulated their  policy  in  dealing  with  strangers,  and,  in 
a  word,  played  the  role  of  autocrat  in  the  disposition 
of  life  and  property  and  in  the  adjustment  of  matters 
the  most  private  and  sacred. 

In  his  addresses  on  public  occasions  and  in  the  pul- 
pit, he  was  often  vulgar  and  vituperative,  and  yet 
much  of  what  he  said  was  regarded  by  the  practical, 
hard-headed  men  about  him  as  the  acme  of  good  sense 
and  "mountain  wisdom." 

At  the  very  time  when  Carissa  in  New  York  was 
making  preparations  for  the  long  journey,  and  dreaming 
of  the  holy  city  and  the  peculiar  people  of  God, 
Brigham  was  making  use  of  the  following  "inspired" 
language  in  the  tabernacle  at  Salt  Lake: 

"I  say,  rather  than  that  apostates  should  flourish 
here,  I  will  unsheath  my  bowie-knife  and  conquer  or 
die.  Now,  you  nasty  apostates,  clear  out,  or  judgment 
will  be  put  to  the  line  and  righteousness  to  the  plum- 
met. (Voices  generally,  "Go  it,  go  it".)  If  you  say  it 
is  right,  raise  your  hands.  (All  hands  up.)  Let  us  call 
upon  the  Lord  to  assist  us  in  this  and  every  good 
work." 

In  the  same   discourse  he  related  a  dream  of  the 

223 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 


night  before,  during  which  he  described  his  exaspera- 
tion against  an  apostate,  and  said: 

"I  took  my  large  bowie-knife  that  I  used  to  wear 
as  a  bosom  pin  in  Nauvoo,  and  cut  one  of  their  throats 
from  ear  to  ear,  saying:     'Go  to  Hell  across  lots.'  " 

It  may  be  argued  that  Brigham  needed  to  use  vio- 
lent language,  and  to  employ  violent  measures  as  well, 
if  he  would  hold  in  any  sort  of  subjection  the  mass  of 
people  that  was  at  this  time  pouring  into  the  valley. 

The  first  comers  to  Deseret  had  been  expelled  from 
Missouri  and  from  Illinois,  for  years  they  had  been 
unsettled,  living  a  precarious,  wandering  existence. 
The  fever  of  unrest  was  in  their  blood.  They  had 
been  taught  that  all  nations  and  peoples  would,  some 
day,  be  subject  to  them,  but  in  the  meanwhile  they 
were  exasperated  and  embittered  by  their  long  hard- 
ships and  cruel  persecutions.  What  spiritual  sensibil- 
ities they  had  originally  possessed,  had  been  brutalized 
by  the  awful  experiences  of  the  past;  so  that  the 
refinements  of  speech  would  have  been  lost  upon 
them,  and  Brigham  felt  that  they  needed  the  rough 
spur  of  his  harsh  and  vulgar  utterances,  as  their  cattle 
needed  the  ox-goad.     And  this  is  true. 

For  there  was  no  spiritualizing,  or  refining  power  in 
their  system  of  belief ;  and  so  this  "religious  commu- 
nity" had  to  be  driven  to  submission  by  taunts,  sneers, 
vituperation,  and  by  the  display  of  a  cruel  and  domi- 
neering will. 

In  such  a  community,  where  the  dominating  faith 
was  both  materialistic  and  sensual,  conditions  of 
necessity  prevailed  that  were  very  far  removed  from 
the  fancy  picture  that  Carissa  in  her  ignorant  enthusi- 
asm had  been  led  to  form. 

224 


THE     LION     OF    THE     LORD 

Brand  was  fully  aware  of  these  conditions,  but  they 
did  not  trouble  him.  He  enjoyed  the  confidence  of 
Brigham  and  his  counsellors,  and  shared  their  polit- 
ical aspirations  as  well  as  their  religious  ideals.  His 
association  with  them  restored  the  tone  of  his  church 
loyalty.  The  result  was  that  he  remembered  his 
yielding  to  Carissa's  point  of  view  with  reference  to 
polygamy,  with  something  like  shame.  This  act  of 
yielding  could  not  but  seem  a  weakness,  in  a  society 
where  it  was  considered  unfitting  for  a  man  to  give 
precedence  to  a  woman. 

He  was   seated  one  morning  in  Brigham's  cabinet, 
waiting  for  the   President's  return.     He  was  thinking 
that  if  his  real  attitude  toward  Carissa  should  become 
known,    it   would  be  regarded  with  contempt.     And 
yet,   he  had  not  been  really  subservient  after  all,   he 
reflected.     She    was    different    from    most    of    these 
women.      How   different   from   Maggie,    for   instance! 
Well,    he   was    glad    she   was   different— in    a    way— 
though   Maggie  was   certainly  a  very  charming  bit  of 
humanityl     But    this    very   difference    had    made    it 
necessary  for  him  to  exercise  caution.     He  was  glad 
that  she  had  at  last  decided  to  end  her  life  of  seclu- 
sion.    Somehow,    he    hoped   that   she   would   be    im- 
pressed   much    as    he   had   been,     by  the  life  of  the 
people.      Brand   arose  to   greet   the   President   on  his 
entrance,    although   their   interviews  were   never  very 

formal.  .    ,  -n  •   u 

"Keep  your  seat.  Brother  Brand,"  cried  Brigham 
cordially,  and  he  did  not  remove  his  hat  when  he  sat 
down.  He  planted  himself  squarely  in  his  big  chair 
and  prepared  to  open  the  matter  in  hand.  Brand  knew 
him  to  be  slow  in  his  movements   but  positive  in  his 

225 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

speech.  There  was  a  peculiarly  heavy  droop  about 
one  eyelid,  but  his  face  was  rather  pleasing  than 
otherwise,  although  usually  cold  and  reserved  in 
expression. 

He  was  scarcely  seated,  when  the  door  opened  and 
someone  entered  the  room. 

Brand  observed  a  deep  frown  settle  upon  Brigham's 
forehead,  and  his  manner  became  very  reserved. 

The  intruder  was  a  large,  solidly  built  man  of  mid- 
dle age,  with  a  frank  open  countenance  and  an  air  of 
diffidence  that  he  sought  to  overcome.  He  was  ad- 
vancing into  the  room  when  Brigham  stopped  him. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  The  words  were 
spoken  slowly  and  without  undue  emphasis,  but  con- 
veyed a  blunt  menace  that  was  unmistakable. 

The  man  removed  his  hat  and  looked  his  conster- 
nation. 

"Why,  Brother  Brigham" — but  Brigham  interrupted 
him  with  "Whom  did  you  have  at  your  house  last 
night?" 

The  man  was  speechless  with  embarrassment. 

Brigham  straightened  himself  slightly  in  his  chair 
and  his  face  flushed. 

"I  wonder  at  your  impudence  to  enter  my  presence, 
after  housing  over  night  that  damned  Gladdenite 
exhorter." 

His  visitor  raised  his  hand  in  deprecation  of  his 
anger,  and  managed  to  stammer  in  reply:  "I  meant 
no  harm.  He  could  find  no  other  place,  and  was  in 
need.     I  came  to-day  to  pay  my  tithing." 

Brigham's  face  did  not  relax  its  sternness.  His 
voice  was  hard  and  repellent  in  its  cold  contempt. 

"We  do  not  take  tithing  from  our  enemies;  I  have 

226 


THE     LION    OF    THE     LORD 

said  that  our  people  should  have  no  intercourse  with 
apostates.  Your  disobedience  cuts  you  off  from  our 
fellowship,  and  fixes  your  lot  with  those  whom  you 
serve.  Unless  you  repent  of  your  wickedness  there  is 
no  chance  of  your  restoration." 

Brand  was  watching  the  scene  with  absorbing  inter- 
est. He  understood  Brigham's  position,  for  he  knew 
with  what  deadly  enmity  he  regarded  the  Apostate 
Gladden  and  his  followers.  His  own  pity  for  the  man 
was  almost  lost  as  he  realized  the  character  of  his  fault. 

The  man  before  them  seemed  utterly  overpowered, 
as  the  enormity  of  his  offense  was  brought  home  to 
him.  Brigham  watched  him  steadily;  he  saw  the 
suffused  face,  the  unsteady  posture,  the  nervous  fum- 
bling of  the  hands  that  held  his  hat.  Presently  the 
man  looked  up  with  the  dumb  appeal  of  a  stricken 
brute  and,  with  a  despairing  gesture,  pleaded  for 
mercy.  The  attitude  would  have  been  highly  ludi- 
crous for  such  a  man,  had  it  not  been  for  the  intense 
air  of  earnestness  that  accompanied  it. 

Brigham's  manner  slowly  changed,  the  hard  lines  of 
his  face  relaxed,  and  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with 
an  expression  of  satisfaction. 

"Do  you  repent  of  your  iniquity,  Brother  Bowen?" 

The  man  raised  his  hand  to  his  face  and  clumsily 
wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow.  When  he  spoke  his 
voice  was  tremulous. 

"I  will  guard  myself  in  the  future." 

His  words  were  almost  inarticulate. 

"That  is  well,"  said  Brigham,  as  if  in  dismissal. 
"You  may  take  your  tithing  money  over  to  the  office." 

As  he  reached  the  door  Brigham  again  addressed 
him: 

227 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"By  the  way,  you  may  give  my  kind  remembrances 
to  Sister  Bowen.  Tell  her  she  must  come  and  see 
me." 

As  the  door  closed,  Brigham  settled  back  comfort- 
ably in  his  chair,  and  remarked  lightly: 

"He  needed  that  lesson.  He's  one  of  those  who 
have  been  priding  themselves  that  they  are  'old  Mor- 
mons.' " 

He  glanced  shrewdly  at  Brand,  and  continued: 

"He  doesn't  take  kindly  to  plurality.  That's  a  sure 
indication  that  he  will  bear  watching.  When  a  man 
persists  in  neglecting  one  part  of  the  law  of  God,  it  is 
quite  safe  to  question  his  loyalty  in  all  the  rest." 

As  he  spoke  he  turned  with  great  deliberation  to  his 
desk.  Brand  could  not  help  but  wonder  if  that  last 
observation  was  made  for  his  benefit. 

"What's  the  attitude  of  these  'old  Mormons'?  I 
have  heard  of  them.  Are  they  numerous?"  asked 
Brand,  feeling  not  quite  at  his  ease. 

Brigham's  lip  curled  ironically. 

"There  aren't  many  of  them,  and  Brother  Bowen  is 
a  fair  specimen.  What  there  are,  will  soon  be  rooted 
out.  They  are  mostly  ruled  by  women,  and  reject  the 
new  and  everlasting  covenant.  They  are  backsliders 
in  heart,  and  are  on  the  very  brink  of  apostasy."  He 
turned  suddenly  and  Brand  saw  that  there  was  much 
suppressed  passion  in  his  face.  "It  would  have  been 
infinitely  better  for  their  black  hearts  of  unbelief  if 
they  had  never  perceived  the  light  of  God's  revela- 
tion, for  those  who  perceive  and  reject  will  certainly 
be  damned,"  he  said,  passionately. 

There  was  silence  in  the  room.  Presently  Brigham 
turned  again  to  his  desk  and  extracted  certain  papers. 

228 


THE     LION    OF    THE     LORD 

As  he  again  faced  about,  all  trace  of  passion  had  dis- 
appeared from  his  countenance. 

"I  rely  upon  you,  Brother  Brand,"  he  said  confi- 
dently. 'Take  these  papers  and  look  them  over  and 
report  what  you  find.  They  relate  to  our  dealings 
with  the  government  at  Washington.  We  are  liable 
to  have  some  troublesome  visitors  before  many 
months,  and  it  is  well  to  exercise  diplomacy.  But  it 
will  not  always  be  so." 

Brand  rose  as  he  took  the  papers.  Brigham  ex- 
tended his  hand  cordially,  in  dismissal,  and  said,  "I 
have  heard  of  your  wife's  illness.  You  had  better 
take  her  out  a  little.  Such  close  seclusion  is  not  good 
for  her." 

As  Brand  passed  up  the  street,  he  noticed  the  great 
throngs  of  people,  and  thought  to  himself  that 
Brother  Brigham  was  right  in  predicting  that  careful 
diplomacy  would  not  always  be  necessary. 

He  recalled  a  favorite  toast  that  had  been  responded 
to  at  a  recent  gathering. 

"We  can  rock  the  cradle  of  liberty  without  Uncle 
Sam  to  help  us." 

"That  will  soon  be  a  fact  as  well  as  a  sentiment," 
he  thought.  "This  city  is  filling  up  astonishingly 
fast.  The  country  is  being  occupied  by  thrifty  set- 
tlers; more  are  coming  every  year.  We  shall  soon 
control  this  entire  country  west  of  the  Missouri  River, 
and  as  our  power  and  prestige  increase  we  shall  attract 
to  ourselves  vast  multitudes  from  every  nation." 

He  felt  that  it  was  good  to  be  associated  with  the 
movement,  and  as  he  yielded  to  the  fascination  of  his 
ambitious  desires,  he  felt  a  new  inrush  of  loyalty  to 
his  church. 

229 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Could  Carissa  have  read  his  heart  as  he  entered  her 
sitting-room,  she  would  have  known  that  there  was  at 
work  within  him  a  combination  of  forces,  that  fatally 
threatened  the  fulfillment  of  her  lingering  hopes. 


230 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

RECEPTION  AT  THE  BEEHIVE 

For  Carissa's  debut,  as  it  may  be  called,  Brand  ex- 
pressed his  desire  that  they  should  together  attend  a 
party  to  be  given  at  the  Beehive  House,  in  honor  of 
two  French  scholars  and  writers,  who  had  come  by 
way  of  California  to  study  the  religious  peculiarities 
and  social  customs  of  this  strange  sect. 

Brand  knew  well  that  on  such  an  occasion  the  best 
face  possible  would  be  put  upon  their  institutions,  in 
order  that  these  strangers  who  had  the  ear  of  the 
world  might  be  favorably  impressed,  and  he  was 
anxious  for  Carissa  to  receive  her  introduction  under 
the  most  auspicious  circumstances. 

Carissa  felt  a  little  nervous  when  she  entered  the 
handsomely  furnished  drawing-room,  and  realized 
that  all  eyes  were  upon  her.  Her  beauty,  her  hus- 
band's position  as  a  man  of  affairs,  her  former  seclu- 
sion, the  many  rumors  that  had  been  whispered  about 
as  to  the  cause  of  it,  and  her  natural  air  of  refinement 
and  distinction,  all  tended  to  make  her  conspicuously 
the  object  of  strong  curiosity.  Brigham  marked  her 
entrance  and  came  forward  to  greet  her.  The-re  was 
nothing  offensive  about  his  manner.  On  the  contrary, 
he  tried  his  best  to  be  agreeable.  But  he  was  no 
ladies'  man  at  the  best  of  times. 

He  introduced  her  to  several  of  his  wives  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  then  turned  to  Brand   and  said,  "I  want 

231 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

you  and  your  wife  to  meet  Mr.  Breilley.  He  is  a  very 
interesting  man,  has  traveled  a  lot,  and  will  remain 
with  us  till  the  spring.  He  has  eyes  in  his  head, 
and  is  here  to  use  them.  We  must  take  care  that 
he  sees  the  right  things." 

Carissa  presently  became  aware  that  Brigham  was 
looking  at  her  shrewdly. 

"I  suppose  you  have  not  seen  much  of  this  new  life 
yet,  Sister  Brand?  I  understand  that  you  were  not 
reared  in  the  faith.  Oftentimes  inherited  tradition 
dies  hard.  There  is  doubtless  much  that  is  strange  to 
you  here?"  he  said  genially,  and  with  a  touch  of 
deference  in  his  manner. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  answering  only  his  last  question. 

Brigham  went  on,  'You  must  take  time.  Learn  by 
experience,  and  do  not  harken  to  foolish  imaginings. 
You  see  everything  now  in  a  state  of  crudity;  don't 
look  too  intently  at  necessary  processes.  From  the 
confused  elementary  mass,  we  will  build  a  common- 
wealth that  shall  be  unique  for  its  purity,  strength, 
and  glory.  That  is  certain.  The  Lord  has  spoken, 
and  we  are  but  carrying  out  His  purposes." 

While  he  was  speaking  Carissa  was  impressed  by 
his  sincerity,  even  though  it  contradicted  all  her  pre- 
conceptions. But  she  asked  herself  if  he  had  not 
practiced  deception  so  thoroughly  and  persistently 
that  he  had  deceived  himself  into  believing  his  own 
words. 

She  was  relieved,  however,  not  to  feel  extreme  re- 
pugnance toward  this  man,  who  exerted  so  pov/erful 
an  influence  over  her  husband,  and  whom  she  must 
often  meet,  should  she  adhere  to  her  resolution  to 
share  her  husband's  life. 

232 


RECEPTION    AT    THE    BEEHIVE 


A  general  movement  brought  M.  Breilley  in  touch 
with  the  group. 

"My  friend  regrets  exceedingly  to  miss  the  privi- 
lege of  paying  his  respects  to  Your  Excellency,"  said 
the  Frenchman,  bowing  deferentially.  "The  rigors  of 
the  journey  have  left  him  utterly  indisposed." 

His  eyes  rested  admiringly  upon  Carissa  as  he  was 
presented  to  her. 

"It  is  a  great  pleasure  for  a  weary  traveler  to  en- 
counter such  generous  hospitality,  such  glorious  scen- 
ery, and  such  beautiful  ladies,  in  this  far-away  land  of 
the  mountains,"  he  said,  gallantly. 

Brigham  replied  in  his  grandest  manner,  "We  trust 
that  your  stay  will  be  agreeable.  We  desire  to  give 
opportunity  for  the  representatives  of  every  people  to 
understand  this  gathering  from  all  nations,  in  these 
latter  days." 

"I  have  been  about  your  city  and  have  found  much 
of  supreme  interest.  But  why  have  I  encountered  no 
one  from  my  own  land?"  inquired  monsieur,  with  sly 
innocence. 

"The  French  are  less  open  to  religious  impressions 
than  other  peoples,"  replied  Brigham,  bluntly.  "It  is 
difficult  for  our  missionaries  to  break  through  the  phil- 
osophical cynicism,  with  which  they  have  been  imbued 
by  Voltaire." 

Monsieur  looked  pained  and  surprised,  as  he  said, 
"I  remember  one  of  your  agents  who  visited  France  a 
few  years  ago,  and  a  public  discussion  concerning  his 
mission  that  appeared  in  our  journals." 

"Some  of  our  ablest  men  have  preached  for  years  in 
your  great  cities,  but  they  have  encountered  indiffer- 
ence, pre-occupation  with  the  sciences,  and  absorption 

233 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

in  light  literature  or  in  the  trivialities  of  an  artificial 
society.  Yet  there  is  no  country  where  our  doctrines 
are  more  needed  than  France." 

'Tlease  explain,"  begged  M.  Breilley. 

'Your  civilization  is  corrupt,  because  it  disregards 
the  life  of  the  home  and  undervalues  the  importance 
of  the  child.  Your  women  evade  the  responsibilities 
of  motherhood,  your  youth  are  frivolous,  and  your 
children  are  either  killed  before  they  are  born,  or  neg- 
lected during  the  period  of  infancy.  With  us  marriage 
is  a  saving  rite,  motherhood  a  divinely  imposed  obli- 
gation, and  a  numerous  offspring  the  glory  of  the 
father.  The  first  great  commandment  given  to  our 
father  Adam,  and  later  to  Noah,  was  'multiply  and  re- 
plenish the  earth.'  "  Brigham  spoke  with  the  air  of  a 
prophet. 

Monsieur  smiled  and  said:  "But,  sir,  do  you  seri- 
ously defend  the  practice  of  polygamy  from  the  stand- 
point of  morality?" 

He  glanced  at  Carissa,  who  involuntarily  flushed 
crimson. 

"Certainly,"  Brigham  replied.  "Society  is  corrupt 
because  it  has  disregarded  this  law  of  God.  Why  is 
there  recognized  one  law  of  sexual  morality  for  men 
and  another  for  women?  Is  not  the  fact  a  sig^nificant 
one,  that  there  is  nothing  in  nature  to  prevent  one  man 
from  being  the  father  of  a  hundred  or  more  children 
a  year,  while  nature  herself  prohibits  a  woman  from 
being  the  mother  of  more  than  ten  or  twelve  in  a 
lifetime?" 

"Yes, "responded  the  Frenchman,  dryly,  "society  has 
certainly  failed  to  recognize  as  the  first  law  of  life  the 
necessity     or     the    desirability    of     multiplying    the 

234 


RECEPTION    AT    THE    BEEHIVE 

species  at  as  rapid  a  rate  as  possible;  as  it  is,  the 
world  has  been  so  crowded  at  times  that  even  war  and 
pestilence  have  seemed  a  blessing." 

"And  yet  never  have  the  waste  places  been  fully 
occupied.  There  is  room  for  the  entire  population  of 
the  earth  to  find  home  and  sustenance  on  the  unim- 
proved portion  of  this  continent  alone,"  said  Brigham, 
with  more  courage  than  discretion. 

"You  connect,  I  believe,  the  second  coming  of 
Christ  with  the  speedy  population  of  the  earth?"  re- 
marked the  Frenchman,  with  an  amused  interest. 

"Certainly.  The  prime  object  of  creation  was  the 
multiplication  of  the  human  species,  in  order  that  pre- 
existent  spirits,  the  offspring  of  God,  might  have  the 
opportunity  of  becoming  incarnate  in  the  flesh.  When 
this  work  has  been  accomplished,  then  will  the  pur- 
poses of  this  terrestrial  planet  be  fulfilled.  Then 
Christ  will  come  to  reign  and  we  shall  reign  with 
Him." 

"This  is  most  interesting,"  commented  Breilley.  "I 
must  certainly  inform  myself  concerning  this  system." 

Then  turning  to  Carissa,  he  said:  "I  will  confess  to 
you  that  I  had  formed  the  opinion  that  Mormons  were 
unreasoning  fanatics,  and  that  their  system  was  one  of 
great  immorality  and  lust." 

Carissa  knew  not  how  to  reply.  Brand  was  by  her 
side,  evidently  pleased  at  the  turn  of  the  conversation. 
Brigham  was  observing  her  intently.  It  was  with  an 
evident  effort  that  she  finally  said: 

"You  have  doubtless  observed  in  your  travels  that 
there  are  many  religious  systems  taught  among  men. 
Christ  Himself  has  given  us  a  rule  by  which  we  may 
judge  of  their  truth.     'By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know 

235 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

them.'  So,  you  see,  it  is  neither  by  theory  nor  by 
hearsay,  but  by  the  test  of  practical  experience  and 
observation  that  we  are  to  judge  of  truth." 

Carissa  was  feeling  for  her  answer,  and  when  it  came 
it  was  the  expression  of  her  deepest  convictions.  She 
looked  up  at  her  husband.  It  was  for  him  that  she 
continued  speaking: 

"Religion  is  more  than  a  system,  more  than  a 
theory,  more  than  a  method.  It  is  a  life;  and  wher- 
ever life  is  found,  it  is  'the  most  holy  that  is  most 
Christian.'  Any  system  that  helps  to  holy  living  can 
come  only  from  God;  and  no  system  that  blunts  the 
spiritual  perceptions,  and  deadens  spiritual  suscepti- 
bilities, can  for  a  moment  claim  His  authorship." 

Brigham's  face  darkened.  There  was  seemingly 
nothing  in  her  words  to  give  offense,  except  that  he 
knew  something  of  her  attitude  of  rebellion,  and 
guessed,  from  her  expression  and  tone,  her  intention 
to  test  by  her  own  standard  of  purity,  the  theory  and 
life  of  this  people.     But  he  only  said: 

"Very  true,  and  we  only  desire  honest,  unprejudiced 
investigation.  But  will  you  find  seats  to  listen  to  the 
music?  A  slight  programme  has  been  arranged,  I 
believe." 

Among  the  company  Carissa  met  a  sweet-faced,  low- 
voiced  woman,  who  was  introduced  to  her  as  Sister 
Pratt,  and  who  manifested  a  desire  for  closer 
acquaintance. 

"I  have  heard  of  your  illness  and  should  have  come 
to  see  you,  but  I  have  been  so  occupied  with  my  chil- 
dren," she  said,  prettily. 

"It  seems  disgraceful  to  be  ill  in  a  climate  so  per- 
fect as  this,"  Carissa  responded. 

236 


RECEPTION    AT    THE    BEEHIVE 

Brigham  turned  to  Brand  and  said,  "Come  into  my 
cabinet  a  few  moments,  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

In  a  few  minutes  Brand  found  President  Young  wait- 
ing for  him,  seated  in  his  great  arm  chair,  his  heavy 
figure  settled  in  a  squatting  attitude. 

"Is  your  wife  a  good  Mormon,  Brother  Brand?" 

Brand  was  startled  by  the  question.  His  first  impulse 
was  to  evade  a  direct  answer.  His  relations  with 
Brigham  had  been  uniformly  pleasant,  but  he  knew  his 
powers  of  penetration,  and  his  domineering  will.  This 
thought,  with  the  uncertainty  of  the  extent  of  his 
questioner's  knowledge,  and  the  fact  that  he  was 
taken  by  surprise,  determined  him  to  frankness. 

"No!     I  cannot  say  she  is,  but " 

"You're  going  to  say  that  you  hope  to  persuade  her 
to  believe,"  Brigham  interrupted  with  a  sneer.  "Let 
me  tell  you  something.  She  is  hoping  to  persuade  you 
to  apostatize." 

Brigham  uttered  the  last  word  with  the  stress  of  sub- 
dued passion. 

"Impossible!"  Brand  ejaculated. 

"It  is  not  impossible.  On  the  contrary,  it's  certain. 
Where  did  you  find  her?" 

"In  the  west  of  England.     In  Cornwall." 

"What  did  she  know  of  Mormonism  when  you 
married  her?" 

"Nothing,  except  what  we  were  instructed  to  preach 
at  that  time." 

"Was  she  baptized?" 

"Yes,  in  London,  when  we  were  married  in  the  fall 
of  1851." 

"When  did  you  begin  to  teach  her  our  doctrine?" 

Brand   stated    the   case    in    a   few   words,    even    to 

237 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Carissa's  rejection  of  the  revelation  on  Celestial  Mar- 
riage. He  sought  to  shield  her  by  pleading  her  inex- 
perience and  rare  sensitiveness,  but  Brigham  cut  it 
short. 

"I  thought  as  much,  and  you  promised  to  stand  by 
her,  did  you?" 

There  was  an  exceedingly  disagreeable  quality  in 
Brigham's  voice  as  he  put  the  last  question.  It 
seemed  as  though  he  was  reading  the  private  thoughts 
of  the  man  before  him. 

"What  could  I  do?  It  would  have  killed  her,  had  I 
forced  the  matter  then,"  exclaimed  Brand,  desperately. 

"It  would  have  been  better  for  her  to  die,  infinitely 
better,  than  to  reject  the  truth."  Brigham's  tone  was 
cold  and  hard.  "You  have  bungled  this  affair  fright- 
fully. You  have  jeopardized  her  eternal  welfare,  and 
have  yourself  been  led  to  the  very  brink  of  Hell.  You 
have  indulged  an  exclusive  passion,  and  it  has  blinded 
you.  You  have  encouraged  her  in  a  wilful  spirit  of 
independence,  when  she  should  have  been  taught  sub- 
mission. Instead  of  ruling  your  own  household,  like 
a  man,  you  have  submitted  to  the  control  of  a  half- 
formed,  prejudiced  girl." 

He  leaned  forward,  his  face  suffused,  and  his 
voice  and  manner  expressing  supreme  contempt  and 
anger. 

"These  are  not  the  ways  of  the  Saints  in  Zion,"  he 
continued,  sternly.  "Out  of  such  proceedings,  apos- 
tasy has  its  most  virulent  growth.  Unless  you  rectify 
your  error,  your  house  will  become  a  plague-spot  of 
sedition;  you  yourself  will  become  an  outcast,  and 
your  whole  household  will  be  cut  off,  as  unworthy  the 

inheritance  of  light." 

238 


RECEPTION    AT    THE    BEEHIVE 


So  intense  was  the  speaker,  and  so  charged  with  the 
spirit  of  assured  conviction,  that  Brand,  who  had 
always  regarded  him  wi.th  reverence  as  the  successor 
of  the  prophet  and  the  anointed  of  the  Lord,  was  pro- 
foundly shaken. 

Under  the  influence  of  Brigham's  words,  he  realized 
keenly  how  feeble  had  been  his  hope  of  really  winning 
Carissa  to  look  at  matters  as  he  did,  and  he  could  not 
but  accuse  himself  of  pursuing  a  weak,  temporizing 
policy.  He  knew  Carissa  well,  he  loved  her,  admired 
her,  and  had  begun  to  fear  her.  The  thought  of  losing 
her  was  intolerable.     The  case  seemed  hopeless. 

"What  can  I  do?"  he  cried  and  dropped  his  face  into 
his  hands. 

Brigham's  manner  changed,  his  tone  softened  and 
took  on  a  note  of  sympathy. 

"That  is  a  question  you  should  have  asked  me  on 
your  first  arrival.  Your  indecision  has  complicated 
the  matter,  but  it  is  not  too  late.  In  the  first  place, 
you  must  crucify  your  own  inclination  and  conquer 
your  own  weakness,"  he  said. 

"That  is  easily  said.  I  want  to  know  how,"  ex- 
claimed Brand. 

"Don't  you  see?  Your  fault  has  been  that  you  have 
humored  her.  The  reason  is  that  you  are  indulging 
yourself  in  an  exclusive  passion  for  her.  You  have 
lavished  upon  her  as  much  affection  as  I  have  upon 
my  entire  household.  The  result  is  that  you  have 
been  a  slave  to  her  caprice.  Obey  God's  command, 
and  take  to  yourself  additional  wives.  It  will  cool 
the  fever  of  your  blood,  and  will  teach  her  the  salutary 
lesson  of  submission." 

"It  would  alienate  her  forever,  and  she  would  never 

239 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

consent  to  it,"  Brand  protested,  aghast  at  the  near 
prospect. 

"Then  you  confess  that  you  have  surrendered  the 
reins  of  government,  do  you?"  Brigham  answered 
roughly.  "But  you  mistake.  Are  you  so  blind  that 
you  fail  to  see  she  will  never  be  won  by  persuasion? 
Her  pride  must  be  broken,  the  demon  of  traditional 
prejudice  must  be  cast  out.  You  must  either  lead  her 
to  the  church,  or  she  will  lead  you  to  perjure  your 
soul  by  abandoning  it.  You  must  choose,  and  you 
have  the  power  of  determining  her  destiny  as  well  as 
your  own.     If  you  accept  counsel,  all  will  be  well." 

Brand's  belief  that  Brigham  was  indeed  the  prophet 
of  God,  and  that  his  resources  were  practically  unlim- 
ited, turned  the  scale  toward  obedience. 

"What  would  you  advise?"  he  asked  rather  meekly. 

"There  is  a  comely  girl  in  your  own  household,  who 
is  greatly  inclined  towards  you,"  said  Brigham  with  a 
complete  return  to  cordiality.  "She  ought  to  be  con- 
genial to  your  wife.  Take  her  into  your  affections.  I 
desire  you  to  go  to  Iron  County  as  early  as  practic- 
able. Take  this  girl  with  you.  Her  father  is  to  be 
sent  with  the  other  men.  She  can  go  down  to  help 
him  in  getting  settled,  and  can  come  back  with  you. 
You  will  be  there  about  three  months.  In  the  mean- 
while, say  nothing  to  your  wife  about  it.  I  will  have 
some  of  our  women  call  upon  her,  who  will  quiet  her 
scruples.  But  remember,  no  indecision,  no  hesitation. 
This  is  a  path  which  once  entered  upon  has  no  turn- 
ing."    With  that,  Brigham  dismissed  him. 

When   Brand   returned    to   the   drawing-room  there 

was   a   curious    look    upon    his   face,    one    that  made 

Carissa  feel  uneasy. 

240 


RECEPTION    AT    THE    BEEHIVE 


His  first  glance  caught  the  full  effect  of  Carissa's 
winning  beauty,  spiritualized  by  suffering  and  heart 
conflict;  and  he  needed  to  turn  his  eyes  away,  in  order 
to  steel  his  heart  to  carry  out  the  plan  he  had  decided 
upon. 


241 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

OBEDIENCE  TO    COUNSEL 

The  next  few  weeks  formed  a  period  of  curious  con- 
flict in  Brand's  mind.  He  had  undertaken  to  follow 
the  counsel  of  President  Young  and  yet  he  took  no 
definite  steps  toward  the  end  in  view. 

When  he  was  with  Carissa  he  experienced  a  sensa- 
tion of  remorseful  tenderness.  What  he  was  about  to 
do  would  wound  her  cruelly.  She  had  trusted  him 
and  this  was  to  be  her  reward.  At  such  times  his 
natural  susceptibility  for  Maggie  was  checked  for  a 
while  and  he  felt  that  he  could  devote  his  life  alto- 
gether to  the  woman  he  loved. 

This  attitude,  however,  he  condemned  as  a  tempta- 
tion to  evil,  when  he  remembered  the  commands  of 
the  church  and  the  duty  that  had  been  indicated  by  his 
superior. 

To  disobey  was  apostasy  and  there  was  no  epithet  in 
all  the  vocabulary  of  the  Saints  more  terrible  than  that 
of  apostate.  It  meant  excommunication,  eternal  ban- 
ishment, social  ostracism,  ruin  in  temporal  affairs, 
persecution  and  often  death.  The  doctrine  of  "Blood 
Atonement"  was  no  stage  thunder,  in  these  days.  It 
meant  what  it  said — death  to  the  apostate. 

Brand  knew  himself  well  enough  to  know  that  he 
would  obey  in  the  last  resort. 

One  day  when  the  time  was  approaching  for  the 
journey,  he  found  himself  standing  and  watching  Mag- 

242 


OBEDIENCE      TO      COUNSEL 

gie,  who  was  moving  with  her  quick  springy  step 
across  the  floor,  and  indulging  his  speculation  as  to 
whether  her  charms  would  make  compensation  for  the 
loss  he  must  inevitably  sustain. 

"Maggie,  are  you  glad  that  you  are  going  with  us  to 
Parowan?"  he  asked,  looking  steadily  at  her. 

There  was  that  in  his  tone  that  thrilled  her.  She 
stopped  before  him,  the  color  of  her  eyes  seemed  to 
deepen,  and  there  was  a  passionate  look  on  her  face. 

"I  am  glad  if  you  are  glad,"  she  said,  and  dropped 
her  eyes  before  his  searching  gaze. 

Brand  smiled,  and  turned;  as  he  re-entered  the  room 
where  his  wife  was  sitting  by  the  window,  sewing,  he 
scarcely  returned  her  greeting,  but  went  to  his  desk, 
took  out  some  papers  mechanically,  and  began  turning 
them  moodily  over  and  over. 

It  was  a  beautiful  April  day  when  Brand  said  good- 
bye to  his  wife,  and  started  for  Parowan.  The  journey 
required  about  six  days  of  steady  traveling,  through  a 
region  sparsely  settled  and  in  its  virgin  state  of  wil- 
derness. Brand  and  a  majority  of  the  party,  consisting 
of  men  destined  for  the  mines  and  the  iron-works, 
were  provided  with  saddle  horses.  The  only  vehicle 
was  a  light  two-seated  wagon,  laden  with  supplies  and 
drawn  by  four  brisk  mules.  Maggie  was  the  only  pas- 
senger. The  driver  was  a  Canadian  by  the  name  of 
Dix,  who  had  made  the  trip  several  times;  he  was 
rugged  in  appearance,  well-informed  concerning  the 
route  and  the  country,  possessed  a  hailing  acquaint- 
ance with  all  the  settlers,  and  was  running  over  with 
anecdote  and  reminiscence. 

Maggie  appeared  at  her  best  as  she  sat  at  his  side, 
happy  with  the  sense  of  novelty,  responding  merrily 

243 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


to  his  stories,  and  indulging  to  the  full  her  anticipa- 
tions of  the  future. 

It  was  remarkable  how  a  few  months  had  developed 
in  her  the  charms  of  womanhood.  She  was  observant 
and  imitative,  and  her  association  with  Carissa  had  been 
like  a  finishing  school  to  her.  Her  tone  was  softened, 
her  manners  more  refined,  her  speech  less  brusque, 
although  the  rich  stores  of  her  physical  vitality  still 
found  expression  in  free  movement  and  charming 
abandon.  She  had  learned  the  trick  of  confining  her 
rebellious  locks  of  hair  into  a  picturesque  coil  of  order. 
Her  dress  was  neat,  trim,  and  appropriate  to  the  out- 
door life  in  which  she  delighted,  while  her  good 
spirits,  merry  laughter,  and  bright  sayings  were 
delightful. 

In  Brand's  presence,  there  often  came  over  her  a 
timid  shyness  that  was  very  winning.  Maggie  found 
nothing  in  the  idea  of  polygamy  to  offend  her;  while 
there  was  much  to  attract  her  when  she  looked  at 
Brand  and  thought  of  Carissa. 

Under  ordinary  conditions,  she  would  not  have  dared 
to  aspire  to  Elder  Brand,  but  she  might  permit  herself 
to  hope  for  the  subordinate  place  of  second  wife.  She 
would  not  be  monopolizing  him.  She  would  be  rob- 
bing no  one  else,  for  she  never  dreamed  of  putting 
herself  on  a  par  with  Carissa.  She  would  not  be 
usurping  her  place;  she  would  just  be  making  a  place 
of  her  own,  in  the  thought  and  generous  love  and  care 
of  this  strong  man,  whom  she  regarded  with  such  a 
feeling  of  reverence.  Her  faith  taught  her  that  there 
was  no  wrong,  and  that  there  would  be  nothing  humil- 
iating in  her  position.  More  than  that,  she  would 
be  honoring  herself,   obeying  God,   and  providing  for 

244 


OBEDIENCE      TO      COUNSEL 


her  eternal  as  well  as  temporal  happiness.  The 
thought  filled  her  with  delight.  She  felt  that  even  a 
small  fraction  of  the  love  of  such  a  man  as  Brand, 
would  be  more  satisfying  than  the  undivided  devotion 
of  such  a  man  as  Quibble. 

During-  the  first  dav,  Brand  was  in  the  saddle,  but  it 
was  dull  work  seeking  to  converse  with  Scandinavians 
and  Welshmen,  whose  knowledge  of  English  was  ex- 
ceedingly limited.  He  attempted  to  talk  with  Morey, 
but  succeeded  in  eliciting  only  gruff  monosyllables. 

He  noticed  that  Maggie  was  being  amused  by  the 
droll  stories  of  the  driver,  who  sought  to  beguile  the 
way;  and  he  was  irritated  at  the  sound  of  the  merry 
laughter  that  came  from  the  wagon. 

Thoughts  of  Carissa  still  lingered  with  him,  but  they 
began  to  take  on  another  character. 

He  felt  that  Carissa  was  blameworthy  to  have  put 
him  in  a  position  where  a  direct  command  was  neces- 
sary, and  where  a  natural  action  was  made  to  look  like 
a  mere  act  of  reluctant  obedience.  The  life  around 
him  seemed  normal  enough,  and  Carissa's  attitude  of 
dissent  became  proportionately  abnormal.  He  put 
away  the  remembrance  of  his  own  weakness  in  sharing 
her  point  of  view. 

''She  might  as  well  adjust  herself  to  the  inevitable," 
he  said  to  himself.  From  the  height  of  this  wise 
philosophy,  it  was  not  unnatural  that  he  should  recur 
to  the  pleasant  thought  of  appropriating  Maggie  to 
himself.  It  was  perfectly  right.  It  was  not  only 
sanctioned,  it  was  ordered  by  the  church.  Plural- 
ity was  a  divine  command,  and  rested  upon  the  fact 
that  a  man's  love  was  not  like  a  woman's,  in  that  it 
did    not   possess    the     same    element    of    singleness. 

245 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Besides,  had  not  Brother  Brigham  said  that  it  was  his 
absorption  in  a  single  passion  that  had  weakened  his 
hold  upon  the  truth,  so  that  he  had  been  unable  to 
present  it  convincingly  to  his  wife?  The  logic  was  as 
easy  as  an  old  glove. 

They  stopped  that  night  at  Cottonwood.  Their  host 
possessed  a  two-roomed  log  cabin.  He  had  three 
wives,  dull,  stolid  women,  and  a  round  dozen  of 
stupid,  dirty  children.  He  had  been  in  the  country 
less  than  five  years,  but  had  a  fair  sized  farm  under 
cultivation  and  was  evidently  satisfied. 

Brand  was  strangely  out  of  sorts.  The  surroundings 
did  not  encourage  him  to  talk  with  Maggie  and  yet 
her  bright  face  allured  him.  After  an  unsatisfactory 
supper,  slatternly  served,  he  turned  to  her  and  said, 
"You'd  better  make  yourself  comfortable  for  the  night. 
I'll  send  in  the  blankets.  I  suppose  there's  no  extra 
bed  to  be  had.  You'll  have  to  use  one  of  these 
settles.'' 

"Where  will  you  sleep?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  anywhere.  I  must  go  out  and  see  the  horses. 
Good-night." 

It  was  a  glorious  night.  The  moonlight  cast  a 
glamour  over  every  homely  detail  of  the  place.  Brand 
stood  in  the  doorway  of  a  rude  shed,  where  the  men 
were  fixing  themselves  for  retiring,  and  looked  out 
upon  the  scene.  A  broad  sea  of  shimmering  light 
stretched  away  to  infinity;  not  a  tree  or  shrub  any- 
where to  break  the  view.  A  slight  mist  lay  low  along 
the  valley,  enough  to  catch  and  hold  the  silvery 
radiance,  not  enough,  however,  to  obstruct  the  vision. 
He  was  yielding  himself  to  its  wonderful  charm.  How 
long  he  remained  in  this  attitude  he  did  not  know.    A 

246 


HE    STUDIED    THE    EASY    ATTITUDE    OF   THE    SLEEPER. 


OBEDIENCE      TO      COUNSEL 


feeling   of  chilliness   aroused   him.     The   men   in  the 
shed  had  long  since  settled  themselves  to  slumber. 

"I'll  go  and  warm   myself  before  I  tumble  in,"  he 
thought. 

As  he  opened  the  door,  the  warmth  of  the  still 
brightly  burning  fire  was  very  agreeable.  A  bed  in 
one  corner  of  the  room  held  two  or  three  children.  His 
host,  wrapped  in  blankets,  was  snoring  heavily  on  one 
side  of  the  fire;  and  on  the  other  was  Maggie  asleep, 
her  head  pillowed  on  her  hand,  her  hair  in  disorder, 
framing  the  face  softened  by  the  flickering  light.  He 
stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire  and  watched  her.  The 
chill  was  leaving  his  blood.  He  felt  the  waves  of 
warmth  mounting  upward,  and  wrapping  him  in  as 
with  a  blanket.  It  was  a  physical  sensation  of  animal 
comfort,  but  it  affected  him  mentally.  He  studied 
the  easy  attitude  of  the  sleeper.  The  covering  was 
well  about  her,  but  the  throat  was  sufficiently  exposed 
to  show  its  exquisite  contour.  The  lips,  too,  were 
ruddy,  and  parted  dangerously.  He  crossed  the  room 
softly,  and  bent  over  the  wide  bench  where  she  was 
lying.  He  observed  the  regular  breathing,  the  long 
dark  lashes,  the  slightly  parted  lips.  He  moved 
slightly  that  he  might  not  intercept  the  light  falling 
full  upon  her. 

She  might  be  his,  by  permission  of  all  that  he  held 
sacred  in  religion.  It  would  do  no  harm  to  awaken 
her.  That  snoring  brute  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire 
would  be  hard  to  arouse.  He  touched  her  lips  gently 
with  his  own. 

She  opened  her  eyes,  startled  for  a  moment. 

"Maggie,  I've  come  to   say  good-night   again.     Do 

you  care?" 

247 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

The  blanket  rolled  back  and  her  warm  arm  stole 
about  his  neck. 

Her  clinging  embrace  intoxicated  his  senses.  All 
this  wealth  of  passionate  life  was  his.  The  rich  treas- 
ure of  her  sensuous  beauty  was  at  his  disposal.  She 
yielded  herself  freely,  as  in  a  delirium  of  joy,  impelled 
by  a  love  that  was  absorbing. 

He  felt  the  hot  blood  throb  in  his  temples.  The 
spirit  of  the  despoiler  was  upon  him. 

There  was  a  flashing  thought  of  Carissa,  but  it  irri- 
tated him,  and  he  put  it  away.  He  passed  his  arm 
about  Maggie,  kneeling  by  the  low  pine  couch. 

"Are  you  satisfied  that  I  have  come?"  he  asked 
softly.  Her  sweet  warm  breath  was  in  his  face.  "I 
shall  marry  you,  darling.  You  understand?  We  may 
have  to  keep  it  secret  for  a  time.     Can  I  trust  you?" 

No  words  were  necessary.  He  knew  that  she  would 
yield  and  obey  in  all  that  he  desired.  She  asked  no 
questions,  made  no  conditions.  She  simply  tightened 
the  pressure  of  her  warm,  clinging  embrace.  At 
length  he  released  himself  gently.  He  looked  long 
at  the  eyes  that  smiled  up  at  his  with  a  satisfied  look, 

"Good-night,  dear." 

With  a  lingering  touch,  he  adjusted  the  covers  about 
her,  stooped  and  kissed  the  full,  red,  smiling  lips,  and 
left  her  to  dream  of  the  happiness  that  had  come  into 
her  life. 

As  he  passed  out  and  made  his  way  to  the  shed, 
where  he  had  spread  his  blankets,  he  was  already  look- 
ing into  the  future,  and  hardening  his  heart  against 
any  obstacle,  though  it  took  the  form  of  an  outraged 
wife. 

Yes,  Carissa  might  oppose   him.     Well,  what  of  it? 

248 


OBEDIENCE     TO     COUNSEL 

Brother  Brigham  was  right;  she  must  learn  to 
adjust  herself  to  her  conditions.  What  solution  could 
be  simpler? 

He  thought  of  what  had  just  passed.  It  was  simply 
an  irrevocable  committal  of  himself  to  the  counsel  of 
his  church. 

On  the  sixth  day  they  reached  Fillmore,  the  terri- 
torial capital,  a  poor  looking  village,  surrounded  with 
a  palisade  instead  of  a  wall. 

Their  road  had  led  them  amid  a  variety  of  mountain 
scenery,  usually  wild  and  rugged.  They  had  passed 
through  a  few  settlements  of  barren,  almost  desolate, 
aspect,  but  had  met  with  hospitable  reception  and 
generous  treatment.  The  people  were  as  a  rule  igno- 
rant, of  foreign  aspect,  hard  workers,  and  displayed 
no  superficial  piety,  uncultivated  in  manner  and  rude 
in  habits  and  speech.  But  they  were  devoted  to  the 
church,  and  fanatical  in  their  ready  obedience  to  the 
will  of  their  superiors. 

In  the  majority  of  the  homes  where  they  stopped, 
there  were  two  or  more  wives,  who  had  become  used 
to  the  system,  and  herded  together  with  little  friction. 
Occasionally  they  met  with  people  of  considerable 
intelligence,  with  whom  Brand  found  it  a  pleasure  to 
converse;  but  as  a  rule  he  was  thrown  back  upon  the 
society  of  Maggie,  and  there  was  that  about  her  fresh 
and  winning  ways,  that  made  the  association 
delightful. 

On  two  occasions  they  had  been  compelled  to  drive 
all  night  long  through  narrow,  lonely  canyons  before 
reaching  a  place  of  shelter.  Each  time  Brand  had  tied 
his  horse  to  the  wagon,  and  taken  his  place  with 
Maggie  who  nestled  by  his  side  listening  contentedly 

249 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

to  the  music  of  the  crunching  wheels,  the  clatter  of 
the  mules'  feet  upon  the  rocky  road,  the  occasional 
ejaculations  of  the  driver,  and  the  constant  undertone 
of  the  dashing  mountain  stream  that  guided  them 
onward. 

There  was  a  weird  fascination  about  these  narrow 
rocky  defiles  by  moonlight.  To  traverse  them  seemed 
the  one  serious  business  of  life.  Any  former  existence 
and  associations  took  on  an  air  of  unreality,  became 
as  unsubstantial  as  the  moonlight.  There  was  an 
insistence  about  the  reiterated  refrain  of  the  jolting 
wagon,  and  the  other  concordant  elements  of  this  sym- 
phony of  mountain  travel,  that  made  their  world  seem 
very  small,  and  yet  all-important. 

Brand  yielded  himself  utterly  to  the  charm  of  Mag- 
gie's sweet  surrender.  He  no  longer  regretted  the 
choice  he  had  made,  no  matter  what  might  be  the  in- 
convenience awaiting  him  in  that  other  world,  to  which 
he  must  sometime  return. 

At  Fillmore  he  found  the  people  in  a  state  of  con- 
siderable excitement,  over  the  reported  depredation  of 
the  Pah-Ute  Indians,  and  readily  consented  to  join  a 
party  that  was  being  organized  for  the  purpose  of  keep- 
ing them  in  check.  Before  starting  he  sought  out  a 
lodging  for  Maggie  with  the  resident  bishop,  and  left 
Morey  in  charge  of  the  wagon  and  supplies. 


250 


CHAPTER   XXV 

EXTRACTS  FROM  CARISSA'S  JOURNAL 

For  several  days  after  Brand's  departure  for  Paro- 
wan,  Carlssa  saw  no  one  outside  her  immediate  family, 
except  the  man  Bovven,  who  came  in  the  mornings,  at 
Brand's  request,  to  do  any  heavy  work  that  might  be 
required.  There  was  little  for  him  to  do,  but  he  was 
always  punctual  in  his  attendance.  Carissa  scarcely 
noticed  him;  he  was  a  big,  pleasant-featured,  slow- 
moving  man,  who  made  no  claim  on  her  attention  while 
the  painful  character  of  her  thoughts  fully  occupied 
her.  One  morning,  however,  he  lingered  some  time 
after  she  had  dismissed  him.  She  thought  he  must 
have  failed  to  understand  her  and  repeated  that  there 
was  nothing  more  to  do. 

"Thank  you.  Miss,"  he  responded,  rolling  his  hat 
awkwardly,  but  making  no  move  to  depart. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  suddenly  perceiving  that 
he  was  seeking  for  an  opening  to  say  something.  "Is 
there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?  Are  your  wife  and 
family  all  well?" 

"Yes,  thank  you.  Miss,  it  isn't  that  anything's  wrong 
— leastways  not  in  that  way."  He  looked  slowly 
around  with  an  exaggerated  air  of  caution  and  lowered 
his  voice,  "I  'm  jest  a  thinkin'  of  goin*  away." 

There  was  something  very  ludicrous  in  the  mingled 
air  of  fear,  embarrassment  and  cunning  with  which  he 
made  this  announcement,  but  Carissa  felt  no  inclina- 
tion to  mirth. 

251 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

"I  jest  can't  stand  it  here  no  longer,"  he  went  on. 
"You  mustn't  tell,  for  they'll  stop  me  if  they  can. 
But  it's  got  to  be  pizen  just  to  breathe  this  here 
air. 

Carissa  understood  what  he  mear^t,  and  a  feeling  of 
respect  for  this  hulking  figure  of  a  man, — began  to  find 
place  in  her  thoughts. 

"Where  will  you  go?"  she  asked  a  little  wistfully. 

"I  dunno  yet,  but  me  and  my  woman  has  talked  it 
over.  You  see.  Miss,  we  warn't  brought  up  to  this 
here  bizness  of  marryin*  more  than  one  woman,  and 
mine  says  that  she  jest  won't  stand  it,  nor  I  don't 
want  to  nuther.  Did  ye  hear  about  that  Elder,  jest 
come  from  a  mission,  marryin'  three  women  all  to 
onct — it's  clean  disgustin',  and  two  of  'em  were  a  gal 
and  her  own  mother." 

The  picture  was  utterly  revolting,  but  Carissa  did 
not  doubt  its  truth.  It  was  not  so  much  worse  than 
what  she  knew  must  exist. 

"It  is  all  horrible,  I  know,"  she  shivered  a  little  as 
she  spoke.  "But  how  can  you  get  away?"  She 
looked  off  over  the  narrow  valley. 

"I  dunno.  Miss,"  the  man  replied.  "The  old 
woman  is  mighty  sot  on  goin'  tho'  and  I  reckon  we'll 
make  it  somehow.  I  jest  thought  I'd  tell  ye  about  it, 
you  don't  seem  so  very  chipper  yerself,  Miss!" 

The  labored  effort  at  sympathy  expressed  by  the  shy 
and  clumsy  utterance,  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
endure.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  and  her  voice 
trembled  as  she  expressed  the  hope  that  he  would 
succeed. 

"Don't  cry,  Missie,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  big 
rough   hand.      "I've   heard   tell   that   the   soldiers   are 

252 


EXTRACTS  FROM  CARISSA'S  JOURNAL 

comin'  out  this  fall.  It  most  likely  will  be  better 
then,  leastways  you  have  nothin'  to  fear.  We're  not 
goin'  right  away,  but  I  jest  thought  I'd  tell  you." 

From  the  pages  of  a  private  journal,  begun  soon 
after  the  birth  of  her  son,  and  dedicated  in  her  happy 
days  most  tenderly  to  him,  we  gain  certain  glimpses 
of  Carissa's  life  at  this  period. 

"I  had  intended  that  in  after  years  my  boy  should 
peruse  these  pages.  But  my  heart  is  breaking  at  the 
thought  that  he  will  discover,  if  I  record  the  truth, 
how  hollow  and  worthless  is  his  inherited  faith.  Noth- 
ing, nothing  has  the  ring  of  truth  and  sincerity.  I 
have  been  seeking  to  grope  my  way  back  to  my 
father's  faith,  but  everything  is  dark  about  me.  Old 
Bible  truths  have  been  poisoned  by  the  lecherous 
touch  of  unclean  fingers." 

"My  husband  has  gone  to  Parowan.  Before  he  left, 
I  declared  to  him  my  utter  unbelief  in  the  system  he 
has  taught  me.  While  he  is  gone  I  will  study,  not 
that  I  may  be  convinced,  but  that  I  may  convince 
him.  This,  and  the  future  of  my  darling  boy,  for 
whom  I  would  give  my  life,  are  all  that  I  have  to  live 
for.  Oh,  my  boy,  to-night  I  have  been  kneeling  at 
your  bedside,  you  were  sleeping  so  sweetly,  and  I  tried 
to  pray.  There  must  be  a  God  somewhere,  if  I  could 
only  find  Him.  I  asked  Him  to  make  my  heart  hard  as 
steel  against  this  system  of  iniquity." 

"It  is  impossible  to  cultivate  familiar  relations  with 
this  people.  There  is  so  much  that  is  antagonistic, 
and  yet  they  are  kind  and  generous  and  hospitable  to 
strangers,  and  to  those  who  believe  as  they  do.  Noth- 
ing but  ostracism  and  outlawry  are  meted  out  to  those 

253 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


who  have  apostatized.  I  cannot  be  separated  from  my 
boy  and  his  father.  In  order  to  give  battle,  I  must 
understand  where  is  the  vulnerable  part  of  this  system. 
How  can  I  make  him  know  its  falsity?  While  I  have 
been  thinking,  there  has  come  to  me  the  saying  of 
Jesus — 'By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them.'  I  must 
collect  the  evidences  of  the  poisoned  fruit  of  this 
upas-tree;  it  ought  not  to  be  difficult,  they  are  all 
around  me." 

"This  system  lays  no  claim  to  spirituality.  It  boasts 
of  being  a  system  of  materialism.  It  would  be  impos- 
sible for  it  to  induce  spirituality  in  the  lives  of  its 
believers.  This  fact  explains  the  dearth  of  spiritual 
feeling  among  the  people.  Wherever  this  feeling  does 
exist,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  only  the  survival  of  the 
old  faith  they  have  discarded.  I  have  been  attending 
the  ward  meetings  and  the  tabernacle  services;  every- 
where there  are  vulgarity,  buffoonery,  and  sacrilege. 
They  have  made  God  after  their  own  image,  and 
picture  Him  as  inspired  by  their  own  evil  passions. 
They  declare  that  'the  Father  has  a  body  of  flesh  and 
bones  as  tangible  as  man's.'  Like  themselves.  He  is  a 
polygamist.  The  other  evening  at  a  ward  meeting,  a 
speaker  quoted  from  a  sermon  delivered  two  years  ago 
by  Orson  Hyde,  chief  of  the  apostles,  in  which  he 
said:  'If  at  the  marriage  in  Cana  of  Galilee,  Jesus  was 
the  bridegroom  and  took  unto  Him  Mary,  Martha,  and 
the  other  Mary  whom  Jesus  loved,  it  shocks  not 
our  nerves.'  He  further  added,  that  those  who 
denied  this  teaching  were  under  the  necessity  of 
explaining  conduct  that  was  compromising,  and 
actions  that  were  indelicate.  My  pen  falters  as  I  write 
these  words.     Is  there  nothing  that  they  are  willing  to 

254 


EXTRACTS  FROM  CARISSAb  JOURNAL 

leave  sacred?  I  received  a  caller  to-day — a  woman, 
who  disgusted  me  with  a  physiological  argument  for 
'Plurality,'  as  she  calls  it.  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  getting 
hardened,  for  I  listened  to  it  all,  and  after  she  had 
ended,  asked  about  her  children,  as  though  all  that  she 
had  said  was  a  matter  of  course." 

"Nothing  but  abject  subordination  is  expected  of 
women.  To-day  the  ward  bishop,  exhorting  from  the 
stand,  said:  'Wives  should  obey  their  husbands  in  all 
things,  no  matter  what  they  are  commanded  or  whether 
they  know  it  to  be  wrong.  What  then?  Will  they  be 
punished?  No;  the  wicked  husbands  will  go  to  Hell 
and  be  damned  to  all  eternity;  but  the  wives  will  be 
taken  from  him  and  given  to  some  better  man.'  What 
a  monstrous  teaching!  Here  is  an  extract  from  a  ser- 
mon by  President  Kimball,  expunged  and  polished  for 
publication  in  the  official  paper:  'You  women  were 
made  more  angelic  and  a  little  weaker  than  men. 
Man  is  made  of  rougher  material  to  open  the  way,  cut 
down  bushes  and  kill  the  snakes,  that  women  may  walk 
along  through  life  and  not  soil  and  tear  their  skirts. 
When  you  see  a  woman  with  ragged  skirts,  you  may 
know  she  wears  the  unmentionables.  From  this  time 
henceforth  you  may  know  what  woman  wears  her  hus- 
band's pants.  May  the  Lord  bless  }'ou,  amen.'  There 
is  much  more  that  has  been  said,  in  the  name  of  a  re- 
ligion that  professes  to  be  the  most  holy  form  of  faith 
in  existence,  that  is  so  horrible,  so  sickening,  so  re- 
volting to  every  refined  instinct,  that  my  pen  refuses 
to  record  it.  Surely  he,  whom  I  married  because  he 
seemed  nobler  than  other  men,  will  at  last  be  led  to 
see  the  utter  depravity  of  this  system  of  irreligion, 
and,  before  you,   my  darling,   shall  ever  be  called  to 

255 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

read  these  pages,  he  himself  will  have  taught  you  to 
hold  its  teachings  in  utter  detestation." 

"Your  father  has  been  gone  a  long  time.  How  I 
wish  for  his  return.  Several  women  have  called  upon 
me.  They  do  not  understand  my  position.  I  told 
them  that  I  did  not,  could  not,  believe  in  the  right- 
eousness of  polygamy.  They  laughed  when  I  said 
that  my  husband  had  assured  me  that  the  dark  shadow 
of  this  institution  should,  never  darken  our  home. 
They  declared  that  Tlurality'  used  to  be  optional,  but 
that  it  has  now  become  the  law  of  the  church,  when- 
ever a  man  can  afford  more  than  one  wife." 

"Oh,  why  does  not  my  husband  return?  I  will  un- 
burden my  heart  to  him.  I  will  tell  him  of  my  fears, 
and  the  despair  that  threatens  to  overwhelm  me.  I 
will  implore  him  to  take  us  away.  He  has  never  really 
known  this  people.  He  is  deceived  as  I  have  been 
deceived.  I  have  heard  his  sermons  when  he  has 
declared  his  faith  in  God,  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the 
Holy  Spirit.  He  cannot  know  what  awful  blasphemy 
is  substituted  here  for  these  teachings.  There  is  lying 
before  me  a  printed  sermon  by  Brigham  Young,  in 
which  he  says:  'When  our  father  Adam  came  into  the 
garden  of  Eden,  he  came  into  it  with  a  celestial  body, 
and  brought  Eve,  07ie  of  his  wives,  with  him.  He 
helped  to  make  and  organize  this  world.  He  is 
Michael,  the  Archaiigel,  the  A?icie?it  of  Days,  about 
whom  holy  men  have  written  and  spoken.  He  is  our 
Father  a?id  oicr  God  and  the  only  God  with  whom  we 
have  to  do.  Jesus,  our  Elder  Brother,  was  begotten 
in  the  flesh  by  the  same  character  that  was  in  the  gar- 
den of  Eden,  and  who  is  our  Father  in  Heaven.  Now 
let  all  who  may  hear  these  doctrines,  pause  before  they 

256 


EXTRACTS  FROM  CARISSA'S  JOURNAL 


make  light  of  them  or  treat  them  with  indifference, 
for  they  will  prove  their  salvation  or  damnation.  Now 
remember  from  this  time  forth  and  forever,  that  Jesus 
Christ  was  not  begotten  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  If 
the  Son  was  begotten  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  would 
be  very  dangerous  to  baptize  and  confirm  females,  and 
give  the  Holy  Ghost  to  them,  lest  He  should  beget 
children,  to  be  palmed  upon  the  Elders  by  the  people, 
bringing  the  Elders  into  great  difficulties.' 

"How  can  I  pen  these  words  so  calmly  when  they 
fill  my  soul  with  such  utter  disgust  and  loathing.  What 
mockery  to  label  such  teachings  Christianity,  and  to 
go  through  the  pretense  of  producing  Scriptural  argu- 
ment in  its  support!  My  only  hope  is  in  the  man  I  love." 

Brigham  had  not  forgotten  his  promise  to  prepare  the 
way  for  the  regulation  of  Brand's  household.  Carissa's 
callers  were  shrewdly  selected,  and  wisely  counseled 
by  him.  They  bore  uniform  testimony  to  her  con- 
cerning their  happiness  in  the  state  of  plurality. 

So  certain  was  it  that  every  new  visitor  would  ply 
her  with  testimony  and  argument,  that  Carissa  dreaded 
the  announcement  of  a  caller.  But  one  day  she  was 
pleased  to  receive  the  sweet-faced  woman  who  had 
enlisted  her  sympathies  at  the  governor's  reception. 
As  they  talked  together  her  heart  was  warmed  into 
forgetfulness  by  the  gentle  womanly  interest  and 
tender  sympathy  of  her  visitor's  manner.  It  was  not 
strange  that  an  impulse  to  confide  in  her  came  over 
Carissa.     Her  heart  was  so  lonely  and  troubled. 

"Are  you  happy  here?"    she  said  leaning  forward, 

and   speaking   almost   timidly.       "Does    this    religion 

seem  real  to  you?" 

257 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Mrs.  Pratt  seemed  to  understand  her.  There  was 
sympathy  in  her  kindly  eyes,  but  a  look  of  firm- 
ness, too,  for  in  those  days  the  women  had  no  small 
part  to  play  in  confirming  the  faith  of  the  wavering, 
and  many  of  them  were  noted  for  their  skill  and  adroit- 
ness. 

Like  a  practiced  surgeon,  this  woman  knew  how  to 
apply  the  knife  with  a  firm  hand. 

"Is  it  of  polygamy  you  are  thinking?"  she  said, 
quietly. 

Carissa  winced,  as  she  answered.  "Yes.  I  think  it's 
terrible." 

Mrs.  Pratt  smiled  and  said,  "There  are  many  that 
have  stumbled  at  it  at  first.  I  confess  to  you,  my  dear 
sister,  that  it  was  a  heavy  cross  to  me.  My  husband 
is  a  good  and  virtuous  man,  whom  I  dearly  love.  We 
have  four  children  who  are  very  dear  to  both  of  us. 
But  he  has  seven  other  living  wives,  and  one  who  has 
departed  to  the  better  world." 

Carissa  was  horrified.  She  could  scarcely  believe 
her  ears.  It  seemed  incredible  to  her  that  a  woman 
of  refinement  and  evident  delicacy  of  feeling  could 
relate,  unmoved,  such  an  astounding  bit  of  personal 
experience.  Her  visitor  smiled  quietly  at  her 
agitation. 

"You  think  that  it  is  impossible  that  I  should  be 
contented  and  happy?  I  have  sisters  in  New  Hamp- 
shire, who  are  horrified  at  such  a  domestic  arrange- 
ment. They  say  that  it  is  licentious,  abominable, 
beastly;  and  have  written  to  me  urging  me  to  renounce 
it.  But  how  can  I  renounce  it,  without  renouncing 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments?  I  must  count  Abraham, 
Isaac,    and   Jacob,    and   their   families,    as   licentious, 

258 


EXTRACTS  FROM  CARISSA'S  JOURNAL 


wicked,  beastly,  abominable  characters;  Moses, 
Nathan,  David,  and  the  prophets  as  no  better.  I 
must  look  upon  the  God  of  Israel  as  partaker  in  all 
these  abominations,  by  holding  them  in  fellowship, 
and  even  as  a  minister  of  iniquity  by  giving  King 
Saul's  wives  into  King  David's  bosom  and  afterward 
by  taking  David's  wives  from  him,  and  giving  them 
to  his  neighbor.  I  must  consider  Jesus  Christ,  and 
Paul,  and  John,  as  either  living  in  a  dark  age, — as  full 
of  the  darkness  and  ignorance  of  barbarism,  or  else 
wilfully  abominable  and  wicked,  in  fellowshiping 
polygamists,  and  representing  them  as  fathers  of  the 
faithful  and  rulers  in  Heaven.  Do  you  not  see  how 
firmly  established  this  system  is  in  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
no  matter  how  repugnant  it  may  be  to  our  preju- 
dices?" 

"Stop!"  cried  Carissa.  She  had  listened  as  one  fas- 
cinated, but  she  could  listen  no  longer.  "It  is  all  a 
horrible  mistake.  There  is  no  God  that  would  com- 
mand such  things." 

For  a  moment  her  visitor  looked  at  her  indignantly, 
but  as  Carissa  suddenly  dropped  her  head,  weeping 
passionately,  Mrs.  Pratt's  face  softened.  Rising  she 
put  her  arm  about  her  and  spoke  soothingly. 

"There,  there,  dear,  don't  cry.  I  felt  that  way  at 
first,  but  I  learned  better.  Tradition  is  very  strong  in 
you.  There's  a  hard  struggle  before  you,  dear.  But 
you  make  a  mistake  to  condemn  us  unheard.  For 
your  own  sake  do  not  yield  to  intolerance.  Life  will 
be  horrible  to  you  if  you  cut  yourself  away  from  every- 
thing around  you.  You  must  not  abandon  yourself  to 
disgust  and   loathing.     Let  me  be  your  friend,  and  I 

will  help  you." 

259 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

"You  cannot  help  me,"  sobbed  Carissa.  "It  is  all 
so  terrible.  I  never  dreamed  of  such  abominations. 
I  have  been  caught  in  a  net-work  of  lies  and  there 
seems  no  hope  of  escape.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do!  What 
shall  I  do!" 

The  elder  woman  stood  by  her  side  gently  stroking 
the  soft  hair  until  the  paroxysm  of  grief  had  passed, 
then  taking  her  hands  in  her  own  she  said  compas- 
sionately : 

"My  dear  sister,  it  is  the  lot  of  woman  to  suffer. 
But  don't  look  on  the  dark  side.  I  could  have  made 
myself  miserable  if  I  had  set  myself  against  the  inevi- 
table. I'll  not  argue  with  you  now,  dear,  but  let  me 
caution  you." 

The  warning  of  her  tone  riveted  Carissa's  attention 
upon  the  words  that  followed. 

"You  will  have  many  visitors.  You  are  being 
talked  about  freely.  Do  not,  I  pray  you,  express  your 
unbelief.  Believe  me,  dear,  I  speak  for  your  good. 
Your  husband  loves  you  and  is  proud  of  you,  but  he  is 
loyal  to  his  church  and  sincere  in  his  belief  in  its 
authority.  Don't  set  yourself  against  that  authority, 
no  matter  what  may  come." 

All  this  was  vaguely  terrifying  to  Carissa.  It 
seemed  that  a  net  was  being  woven  about  her  by  some 
hostile  influence. 

When  her  visitor  had  gone,  Carissa  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands.  Everything  was  slipping  away  from 
her.  It  was  no  use  to  struggle;  she  abandoned 
herself  to  the  incoming  darkness. 

She  was  aroused  at  length  by  baby  hands  tugging  at 
her  dress,  and  a  baby  voice  calling  to  her:  "Mamma, 
mamma." 

260 


EXTRACTS  FROM  CARISSA'S  JOURNAL 

She  lifted  her  head,  and  saw  the  sweet  upturned  face 
pleading  for  a  caress.  Her  mother's  heart  responded, 
and,  as  she  held  him  in  her  arms  and  rocked  him  to  and 
fro  with  infinite  tenderness,  the  healing  tears  came  to 
wash  away  a  little  of  the  great  sorrow  of  her  soul. 


261 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE    BISHOP'S   VISIT 

President  Young  was  not  a  man  to  submit  quietly  to 
the  disobedience  and  caprice  of  a  woman;  and  he  did 
not  lack  pliant  agents  of  either  sex,  ready  and  compe- 
tent to  do  his  will. 

Among  those  w^ho  were  the  willing  instruments  of 
his  despotic  authority,  and  who  had  risen  to  position 
in  the  church  because  of  subservient  obedience,  was 
the  bishop  of  the  ward  in  which  the  Brands  resided. 

Since  Carissa  had  begun  to  attend  the  ward  meet- 
ings, this  man  had  been  the  special  object  of  her 
detestation  He  seemed  to  her  the  embodiment  of 
the  atrocious  system  of  Mormonism,  in  its  most  offen- 
sive aspects. 

He  had  recently  taken  his  fourth  wife,  who  was  the 
niece  of  his  first,  and  his  entire  household  was  crowded 
into  a  small  two-story  adobe  house,  that  presented  a 
cheerless,  prison-like  aspect,  in  spite  of  the  dozen  or 
more  children  that  swarmed  in  the  untended  garden  in 
front. 

He  was,  however,  a  man  of  considerable  shrewdness 
and  force,  illiterate,  but  understanding  well  the  rude 
people  under  his  charge,  and  supplementing  his  native 
ability  by  a  power  of  dogmatic  assertion  that  left  little 
room  for  question. 

To  this  man  Brigham  resorted,  as  soon  as  he 
learned  that  Carissa  was  still  unconvinced  of  the 
wisdom  and   righteousness    of   the   celestial   order  of 

marriage. 

262 


THE       BISHOP'S      VISIT 

"It  may  be  necessary  that  I  should  talk  with  her 
myself,"  he  said.  "But  it  is  well  that  she  should  first 
know  the  extent  of  my  authority." 

"I  will  inform  her,"  said  the  bishop.  "She's  a 
damned  handsome  woman,  and  has  been  very  atten- 
tive of  late." 

"Save  your  swearing  to  enforce  your  pulpit  utter- 
ances. It  isn't  needed  here,"  responded  Brigham. 
"We  shall  have  no  trouble  with  Brand,  but  this  girl 
that  he  married  in  England  needs  to  learn  her  place. 
It  may  be  necessary  to  let  her  know  that  we  do  not 
recognize  her  marriage,  until  she  has  been  sealed  by 
competent  authority;  and  that  we  possess  the  power 
of  absolute  divorce.  A  hint  that  she  may  be  cut  off 
from  husband  and  child,  as  well  as  from  the  church, 
may  teach  her  reason." 

"It's  your  high-spirited  mare  that  needs  the  touch 
of  the  whip,"  commented  the  bishop.  "I'll  see  that 
she  knows  what  to  expect." 

Brigham  undoubtedly  knew  how  insulting  would 
seem  the  errand  of  this  servant  of  the  church,  but  he 
felt  that  this  woman  needed  a  lesson  in  humility,  and 
to  realize  the  force  that  backed  the  mandates  of  the 
church.  His  sense  of  delicacy  was  of  that  subtle 
kind  which  could  prompt  him  to  say  in  a  public  ser- 
mon: 

"My  wives  have  got  to  do  one  of  two  things:  either 
round  up  their  shoulders  to  endure  the  afflictions  of 
this  world,  and  live  their  religion,  or  they  may  leave, 
for  I  will  not  have  them  about  me.  I  will  go  into 
Heaven  alone,  rather  than  have  scratching  and  fighting 
around  me.     I  will  set  all  at  liberty." 

The  bishop  was  well  pleased  with  the  commission 

263 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

with  which  he  was  entrusted.  He  imagined  himself 
well  versed  in  the  best  methods  of  handling  women, 
as  well  as  a  fair  judge  of  the  points  of  female  beauty, 
and  had  felicitated  himself  that  Mrs.  Brand  had  been 
assigned  to  his  pastoral  supervision.  He  did  not  antic- 
ipate much  difficulty.  Of  course  his  parishioner 
might  feel  aggrieved,  and  would  doubtless  need  con- 
solation. But  the  idea  of  being  called  upon  to 
console  so  beautiful  a  member  of  his  flock  was  by  no 
means  disagreeable  to  him.  He  had  mistaken  her 
gaze  of  fascinated  horror,  while  listening  to  his  vitu- 
perative declamation,  for  a  look  of  absorbed  and 
appreciative  attention.  As  he  pictured  the  coming 
interview,  he  intended  to  combine  dignity  with  patron- 
age, and  to  be  firm  but  gracious.  He  certainly  antici- 
pated a  courteous  reception,  but  as  he  opened  the 
door,  unannounced,  and  walked  in,  Carissa's  surprise 
at  the  intrusion  found  expression  in  a  very  cold  and 
reserved  bearing. 

She  rose  and  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  but  she 
spoke  no  word  of  greeting. 

"Pray  be  seated,  Mrs.  Brand.  You  know  me  as  your 
bishop.  I  understand  that  your  husband  is  absent,  and 
thought  you  might  need  a  little  advice,"  he  said, 
reaching  awkwardly  for  a  chair.  The  chair  was  for 
himself,  and  he  placed  it  as  close  to  her  as  the  table 
would  permit,  and  dropping  heavily  into  it,  leaned 
forward  in  an  attitude  inviting  confidence. 

A  sudden  sense  of  the  ludicrous  came  to  Carissa's 
relief,  as  she  said:  "Did  Mr.  Brand  request  you  to 
tender  your  services?" 

"No,  not  exactly,  but  when  a  brother  is  absent  upon 
business    or  on  a  mission,  it  devolves  upon  his  bishop, 

264 


THE      BISHOP'S      VISIT 

as  the  shepherd  of  the  flock,  to  look  after  his  wives  and 
superintend  his  household." 

"Ah!  A  very  pretty  arrangement  indeed!"  com- 
mented Carissa,  sarcastically. 

"You  have  not  been  in  the  valley  long  enough  to 
understand  fully,  our  institutions,"  he  said,  rather 
sternly. 

He  had  felt  the  sting  of  her  tone.  She  responded 
to  the  spur,  and  there  was  some  defiance  in  her  man- 
ner, as  she  replied:  "I  think  I  am  learning  to  under- 
stand them  very  well." 

"You  will  show  greater  meekness  when  you  begin  to 
feel  their  weight." 

His  harsh  face  showed  that  he  had  taken  offence, 
and  his  words  seemed  to  hold  some  sinister  meaning. 
Carissa  was  a  bit  frightened  by  his  manner. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  her  eyes  challeng- 
ing him. 

"I  mean  that  the  proud  and  the  froward  are  an 
abomination  unto  our  God.  I  find  in  you  a  contuma- 
cious spirit.  Unless  you  humble  yourself  the  hand  of 
the  Lord  will  rest  heavily  upon  you." 

Carissa  was  silent  through  fear.  The  bishop 
watched  her.  He  saw  her  effort  to  control  herself. 
As  far  as  he  was  capable,  he  admired  her  and  felt  a 
certain  pity  for  her,  but  his  errand  was  to  teach  her 
her  helplessness.  He  put  his  big  polished  fist  upon 
the  table.     Carissa  looked  at   it  as  though  fascinated. 

"You  understand  the  principles  of  the  patriarchal 
order  of  marriage,"  he  began  slowly.  "You  know  that 
it  is  a  divine  order.  Those  who  enter  it  cheerfully 
find  happiness.  Those  who  disobey  are  under  the 
wrath  of  God, and  their  damnation  begins  in  this  world. " 

265 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

He  paused.  Carissa  made  no  reply,  nor  did  she 
change  her  attitude. 

"Brother  Brigham  has  said:  'If  any  of  you  deny 
the  plurality  of  wives  and  continue  to  do  so,  1  promise 
that  you  will  be  damned.'' 

Still  no  reply. 

He  began  to  think  that  a  battle  was  on  with  this 
silent,  white-faced  woman;  and  shrewdly  calculated 
how  he  might  break  through  her  reserve.  There  was 
doggedness  in  his  tone,  as  he  continued:  "The  diso- 
bedience of  men  to  this  doctrine  has  filled  the  world 
with  licentiousness,  harlotry,  social  abominations  and 
all  manner  of  corruption." 

He  leaned  forward  and  smiled  as  he  saw  the  quiver- 
ing of  her  averted  eyelids  and  the  trembling  of  her 
hand. 

"Every  man  in  the  full  possession  of  his  natural 
powers  is  by  nature  a  polygamist.  But  the  rejection 
of  the  divine  method  of  regulating  these  matters  has 
caused  perversion  of  his  instincts,  that  has  resulted  in 
unbridled  passion." 

He  paused  again.  His  words  had  at  last  stung  her 
into  life.  She  was  looking  at  him  with  a  sick  look  of 
weariness  upon  her  face. 

"Why  do  you  come  to  tell  me  of  these  things?"  she 
asked,  indignantly. 

The  bishop  felt  that  he  was  on  the  right  track.  He 
was  rather  proud  of  his  diplomacy. 

"Because  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be  hardened 
against  the  truth.  You  are  believed  to  have  set  your- 
self against  the  counsel  of  the  church,"  he  said,  sternly 
and  firmly. 

"May  I  ask  who  is  my  accuser?"     She  was  desper- 

266 


THE      BISHOP'S      VISIT 


ately   gathering    together    all    her   powers    of    resist- 
ance. 

"You  will  acquit  yourself  or  become  your  own 
accuser  by  your  answer  to  a  simple  question,"  he 
responded,  judicially. 

"What  is  that?"  she  demanded. 

"Will  you  assist  Brother  Brand  in  carrying  out 
Brother  Brigham's  counsel?" 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  mean.  What  counsel  has 
he  given  my  husband?"  she  said,  steadily. 

"Will  you  encourage  your  husband  to  increase  his 
household  according  to  the  command  of  God?" 

The  question  came  with  the  force  of  a  blow.  Carissa 
drew  her  breath  sharply.  Her  inquisitor  observed  her 
keenly  as  he  restated  his  question  slowly,  emphat- 
ically. 

"Will  you,  I  say,  encourage  Brother  Brand  to  take 
additional  wives,  according  to  the  Abrahamic  cov- 
enant?" 

"Never!"  Her  voice  rang  out  silvery  clear.  She 
drew  herself  up  proudly.  Her  face  flushed,  her  eyes 
flashed.     She  looked  invincible  just  then. 

The  bishop  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  fixed  his 
eyes  admiringly  upon  her.  This  was  a  woman  worth 
winning,  he  thought. 

"You  are  a  very  beautiful  woman,  Mrs.  Brand,"  he 
said,  coolly.  His  gaze  seemed  to  be  taking  an  inven- 
tory of  her  charms.  His  swollen  underlip  wore  its 
most  disagreeable  expression.  "But"  (he  broke  the 
sentence  by  way  of  emphasis),  "what  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it?" 

The  question  conveyed  the  impression  of  finality. 
Coupled  with  the  insult  of  his  undisguised  admiration, 

267 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

it  carried  more  terror  to  Carissa's  quivering  heart  than 
any  words  of  threatening  could  have  done. 

The  intolerable  system  that  hemmed  her  in  seemed 
personified  in  the  figure  before  her,  which  somehow 
began  to  loom  in  exaggerated  proportions  with  its 
deep  eyes,  hideously  gloating  mouth,  and  huge  flabby 
frame,  so  that  it  filled  the  room,  encroached  upon  her 
liberty,  and  shut  out  the  breath  from  her  nostrils. 

She  would  have  fainted,  but  she  dared  not  lose  con- 
sciousness. What  aroused  her  was  his  rising  from  his 
chair  and  reaching  out  his  hand  as  though  to  support 
her.  She  sprang  back  against  the  wall,  with  every 
nerve  quivering  painfully. 

"It  is  not  so  bad  as  that,  believe  me.  Not  bad  at 
all  when  you  get  used  to  it.  Of  course  at  first  it 
seems  hard,  but  really  you'll  find  it  not  so  bad,"  he 
said  in  most  amiable  tones. 

"Don't  touch  me.  I  loathe  you.  Leave  this  house!" 
cried  Carissa,  scarcely  knowing  what  words  she  spoke. 

He  laid  his  hand  softly  upon  the  table.  The  color 
of  his  lip  changed  from  red  to  purple,  the  expression 
of  his  eyes  altered,  but  that  was  all.  His  tone  was  as 
soft  as  oil  as  he  said:  "I  suppose  you  know,  my  dear 
sister,  that  those  who  disobey  will  be  cut  off?  I  can- 
not leave  you  to  work  your  own  ruin.  Your  eternal 
salvation,  as  well  as  your  earthly  happiness,  is  dear  to 
me.  You  cannot  hinder  the  will  of  the  Lord,  but  you 
can  ruin  yourself.  Your  husband  is  a  loyal  son  of  the 
church;  he  has  heard  the  warning  of  the  church,  'not 
to  love  wives  and  children  more  than  me.'  He  cannot 
save  you;  he  would  not  reach  his  hand  to  you,  if  you 
persist  in  your  rebellion.  There  is  only  one  course, 
and  that  is  submission." 

268 


THE      BISHOP'S       VISIT 


"And  if  I  do  not  submit— what?"  said  Carissa.  Her 
heart  seemed  to  stand  still  waiting  for  an  answer. 

"You  will  submit,  my  dear  sister,  I  am  persuaded. 
If  you  should  not,  however,  you  will  be  brought  before 
the  President,  divorced  from  your  husband,  separated 
from  your  child,  and  cast  out  into  the  wilderness,"  he 
said,  calmly,  and  with  a  matter-of-fact  manner  that 
Torquemada  himself  might  have  envied. 

He  rose  with  an  air  of  considerable  dignity.  He 
felt  that  he  had  accomplished  his  mission.  "Good 
day.  Sister  Brand,  and  the  Lord  be  with  you,"  he  said 
in  apostolic  tones,  as  he  took  his  departure. 

It  was  several  days  later  that  news  of  so  startling  a 
nature  was  borne  to  Carissa  that  it  succeeded  in  arous- 
ing her  from  the  sick  lethargy  that  had  come  upon  her. 

Bowen  and  his  wife  and  children  had  started  for 
California.  They  had  left  the  city  silently  and  at 
night,  and  had  driven  hurriedly  by  way  of  the  southern 
settlements  to  strike  the  California  trail.  Nothing 
further  had  been  heard  of  them,  till  now  the  intelli- 
gence was  brought  that  they  had  been  murdered  by 
Indians  and  that  their  bodies,  frightfully  mangled,  had 
been  recovered,  identified  and  brought  back  to  the  city 
for  burial. 


269 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE    DEVIL   IN    THE   VALLEY 

Before  Brand's  return  from  Parowan,  he  had  an 
interview  with  President  Young  which  filled  him  with 
perplexity.  The  latter,  in  company  with  several  lead- 
ers of  the  church,  made  a  trip  through  the  southern 
settlements  to  inspect  improvements,  encourage  the 
settlers,  confirm  them  in  their  faith,  and  to  advise 
them  concerning  their  relations  with  the  Indians. 

Brand  met  the  party  at  Cedar  City,  not  far  from  the 
iron  works,  and  made  a  report  that  was  received  with 
satisfaction. 

"You  have  done  well,"  said  Brigham.  "We  shall 
have  a  good  report  to  publish  to  the  world.  We  have 
the  material  for  the  building  of  a  self-sustaining 
empire.  All  that  is  required  is  development,  and 
then  we  may  snap  our  fingers  at  our  enemies.  You 
have  been  wise  in  your  dealing  with  the  Indians.  I 
found  Chief  Walker  near  Nephi.  He  was  sulky  at  first, 
said  he  had  lost  his  heart  and  could  not  talk,  but  I 
succeeded  in  waking  up  the  old  tiger  and  bringing  him 
to  terms.  I  have  told  all  the  brethren  to  build  strong 
walls  around  their  towns  and  dwelling  houses,  walls 
strong  enough  to  keep  the  devil  out." 

"I  shall  be  ready  to  return  by  the  last  of  June,"  said 
Brand. 

"That  reminds  me,"  Brigham  responded,  "there  is 
a  lot  of  talk  down  here  about  you  and  that  girl  you 

270 


THE     DEVIL     IN     THE    VALLEY 

brought  with  you.  You  had  better  be  careful.  You'll 
not  find  everything  clear  sailing  with  your  wife.  Your 
damned  foolishness  has  confirmed  her  in  her  natural 
obstinacy.  If  you  don't  take  care  she'll  raise  the 
devil  yet."  Brigham  wore  an  air  of  considerable  con- 
cern as  he  added:  "I  hope  you  have  not  compromised 
yourself  with  the  girl?" 

Brand  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  He  scarcely 
knew  what  to  answer.  He  recalled  Brigham' s  previ- 
ous advice,  which  certainly  spelled  compromise. 

"I  have  told  her  that  I  shall  marry  her,  and  she 
expects  it." 

"Oh,  if  that's  all,  it  will  be  all  right.  You  can  plead 
your  inability  to  keep  your  promise,  and  we  will  find 
someone  else  for  her.  I  may  take  her  myself.  Of 
course  I  knew  that  you  would  be  careful.  You  know 
the  penalty  for  compromising  yourself  with  a  girl  that 
you  can't  marry?  If  you  go  too  far  it's  death,"  said 
Brigham,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  knew  he  could 
make  good  his  words. 

"But  what's  to  hinder  my  marrying  her?"  asked 
Brand  aghast. 

"Well,  you  will  have  to  get  the  consent  of  your  wife, 
or  get  a  divorce,"  declared  Brigham  bluntly.  "I 
thought  your  wife  would  harken  to  reason,  and  prove 
submissive;  but  she  has  a  devil.  It  is  of  your  own 
fostering,  too,  and  unless  you  can  cast  it  out,  you  must 
cut  her  off  from  your  own  life,  or  choose  your  portion 
in  Hell  with  her."  With  a  wave  of  his  hand,  Brigham 
dismissed  him.  And  Brand,  with  a  sense  of  having 
been  tricked,  and  full  of  impotent  fury,  was  left  to 
chew  the  cud  of  bitter  reflection. 

When  he  returned  to  Parowan  he  found  that  Morey, 

271 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

obeying  orders,  had  taken  Maggie  and  accompanied 
the  presidential  party  to  Salt  Lake  City. 

According  to  the  chronicle  of  the  Saints,  the  winter 
of  1854  and  1855  was  a  time  when  "the  devil  was  in  the 
valley." 

A  company  of  United  States  troopers,  under  the 
command  of  Colonel  Steptoe,  had  arrived  on  the  last 
day  of  August.  As  there  had  been  many  points  of 
disagreement  between  the  governor  of  the  territory 
and  the  federal  officers,  this  military  force  was  at  first 
regarded  as  a  menace.  The  Mormon  question  was 
being  debated  in  Congress.  The  desirability  of  divid- 
ing Utah  territory  into  four  parts,  and  apportioning 
them  to  Nebraska,  Kansas,  California,  and  Oregon, 
was  being  seriously  discussed.  It  was  thought  by  the 
Mormons  that  the  authorities  at  Washington  were 
bent  upon  their  extermination.  President  Pierce  had 
expressed  his  determination  not  to  reappoint  Brigham 
Young  as  governor  of  the  territory.  Naturally  a 
spirit  of  hostility  was  engendered. 

The  United  States  flag  held  little  claim  for  reverence 
upon  the  mass  of  raw  emigrants,  who  had  come  from 
England  and  Wales  and  every  country  of  Europe,  and 
who  constituted  the  bulk  of  this  hetrogeneous  popula- 
tion. The  sight  of  officers  and  troopers  was  not  pleas- 
ing to  the  eyes  of  these  foreigners,  who  had  been 
taught  that  the  only  authority  they  need  obey  was  that 
of  Brigham  Young,  who  was  to  them  supreme  head  of 
.  both  state  and  church. 

With  the  troops  came  not  only  steel   and   lead,  but 

gold,    and   lax  morals,    and   heretical  opinions.     And 

these  things  were  a^sore  trial,  yea,  an  abomination,  to 

the  faithful. 

.272 


THE     DEVIL    IN    THE    VALLEY 


It  did  not  require  much  from   the  outside  to  set  in  a 
ferment   such    a   community.     Thousands    of  undisci- 
plined   converts,    many  of   them   lured  by  the  desire 
to  better   themselves    in    their   temporal    affairs,    and 
restless    for    the  time  when  endurance  of   long  hard- 
ship and   privation  would  be  substantially  rewarded, 
had  but  recently  come   into  the  city.     These  found  it 
hard  to  adjust  themselves  to  the  demands  of  commu- 
nity life.    They  differed  from  one  another  in  language, 
customs,     laws,    nationality    and    tastes.     They   were 
imbued  with  diverse  traditions  and  prejudices.     They 
had  been  bred  in  different  and  adverse  faiths.     Their 
moral   standards  were  as  numerous  as  their  tongues. 
It  required   a  strong  hand  to  hold  them,  and  a  strong 
will  to  guide  them.    A  mere  preacher  of  righteousness 
would    have    utterly   failed.     But    Brigham    with    his 
mailed  fist  had  proved  himself  equal  to  the  task.     He 
had  forced  them  to  recognize  his  superiority,  and  with 
unyielding  will  he  had  bent  them  to  his  purpose.    And 
looked  at  closely,  this  was  his  best  credential. 

But  this  new  element,  alien  and  independent,  con- 
sisting of  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  regular  army,  was 
beyond  his  control.  He  could  not  subject  them  to 
church  discipline.  He  could  not  control  their  liberty 
of  action.  They  introduced  examples  of  laxity,  they 
were  the  representatives  of  a  power  that  was  greater 
than  his  own.  He  would  have  forbidden  them  the 
city,  had  it  been  possible;  but  he  was  too  prudent  to 
provoke  a  conflict  that  must  prove  hopeless,  unless  he 
should  be  driven  to  it.  It  was  a  time  of  great  perplex- 
ity. Brigham  very  sagaciously  decided  to  solve  the 
problem  by  a  show  of  courtesy.  Instructions  were 
given  that  fair  prices  should  be  charged  for  feed  for 

273 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

the  horses,  and  provisions  and  accommodations  for 
the  men.  The  hotels  were  soon  crowded,  and  many 
homes  were  opened  to  furnish  lodgings  for  the  officers, 
with  the  result  that  people  and  soldiers  were  very- 
soon  on  friendly  terms. 

Colonel  Steptoe  was  a  man  of  honor  and  discretion, 
and  by  many  kindly  acts  convinced  the  people  of  his 
desire  to  promote  peace  and  a  spirit  of  conciliation. 
It  was  not  long  until  parties  and  dances  were  arranged 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  visitors.  At  one  of  the 
parties,  not  long  after  their  arrival,  two  young  officers 
were  standing  a  little  apart  chatting. 

"What's  come  over  you  to-night,  Gil?  You  seem 
out  of  sorts,"  remarked  Captain  Ingalls. 

"Oh,  go  and  join  the  ladies,  if  you  like.  I'm  in  no 
hurry,"  replied  Lieutenant  Osborne. 

"No  hurry!  Is  your  appetite  sated  already?  I'm 
afraid  these  Mormon  beauties  don't  agree  with  you." 

"I  tell  you  I'm  going  to  wait.  See  here,  Ingalls;  I 
have  some  friends  among  these  people.  I  want  to  see 
them  when  they  come  in." 

"Oh,  that's  it.  Well,  I'm  in  no  hurry  either.  Queer 
affairs  these  balls  as  they  call  'em.  Open  with  prayer 
and  close  with  the  benediction.  I  suppose  that  long- 
visaged  apostle  over  there  is  anxious  to  begin.  See 
him  twitch  his  beard  and  glance  at  the  band  stand." 

"Say  w^hat  you  will,  Ingalls,  these  people  have 
received  us  better  than  we  expected,"  said  Osborne. 

"Oh  yes,  but  they're  making  something  out  of  it, 
too.  Their  mighty  potentate,  Brigham,  has  taught 
them  a  thing  or  two.  What  surprises  me  is,  that  he's 
so  liberal  as  to  parade  the  beauties  of  his  harem  before 
our  hungry    eyes.       If   this    sort  of    thing  continues, 

274 


THE     DEVIL     IN     THE     VALLEY 

a  winter's  sojourn  among  the  Saints  won't  be  so 
bad." 

"It  certainly  beats  being  cooped  up  all  winter  at 
Fort  Laramie,  no  matter  what  happens." 

"More  exhilarating,  but  not  so  safe,  eh?  You  may 
wish  yourself  back,  after  we've  caused  a  flutter  in  a  few 
of  these  Mormon  dove-cotes.  It's  coming  sure  as 
fate.  Bright  glances  from  pretty  eyes  tell  the  same 
story  everywhere." 

"There's  another  story  written  in  the  heavy  frowns 
of  male  faces.  You'd  better  read  that,  I'm  thinking," 
laughed  Osborne. 

"I  suppose  it  isn't  very  healthy  to  trifle  with  a 
woman's  affections  in  these  regions.  But,  by  Jove, 
the  game  is  well  worth  the  candle,"  quoth  Ingalls 
merrily. 

"They're  a  law  unto  themselves,  are  these  fellows, 
and  would  think  nothing  of  plugging  a  United  States 
officer  with  an  ounce  of  lead." 

"You're  a  very  persuasive  preacher  of  righteousness 
for  an  Indian  fighter.  My  friend,  I  think  you'd  be 
safer  back  in  garrison,"  remarked  Ingalls,  with  a 
grimace.  Then  added,  "Well,  ta-ta.  I  must  be  off. 
It's  time  for  target  practice." 

Osborne's  thoughts  had  often  reverted  to  the  woman 
he  had  met  at  Fort  Laramie.  He  had  not  seen  her 
since  his  arrival  in  the  city,  but  hoped  that  she  might 
be  present  at  this  general  gathering. 

Just  now  he  was  wondering  if  she  would  speak  so 
proudly  of  these  people,  now  that  she  knew  them  inti- 
mately. He  recalled  the  indignant  reserve  with  which 
she  had  met  his  insinuations  against  her  adopted 
people.     Her  loyal  vindication  of  their  creed  and  con- 

275 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

duct.  Her  ready  forgiveness  to  meet  his  own  quick 
repentance.  "I  wonder  how  she  has  met  the  reality?" 
he  said  to  himself. 

He  almost  shuddered  as  he  remembered  what  he  had 
seen  during  his  brief  stay  in  the  city  —  polygamy 
everywhere  paraded,  authoritatively  preached,  openly 
practiced  —  while  she  was  so  sure  of  its  criminality, 
and  so  confident  in  her  denial  of  its  existence! 

What  rot  it  was!  What  a  disgusting  system  for  any 
pure-minded  woman.  He  had  heard  an  apostle  speak 
of  his  wives  as  his  herd  of  heifers.  He  had  heard  jests 
from  the  Elders  that  would  have  made  even  a  hardened 
soldier  blush. 

Presently  Osborne  gave  a  great  start,  for  there  close 
to  him  stood  Carissa.  He  was  impressed  with  the 
marvel,  and  yet  the  coldness,  of  her  beauty.  Was  this 
the  woman  who  had  spoken  kindly  to  him?  whom  he 
had  been  pitying?  whose  confidence  he  had  thought  of 
winning? 

He  had  never  seen  her  before — like  that.  He  noted 
the  air  of  high  breeding,  the  perfect  ease  of  manner, 
W4th  a  touch  of  weariness,  though  tinctured  with  the 
acid  of  heart  bitterness.  She  moved  as  though  she 
was  engaged  in  the  performance  of  a  duty  that  gave 
her  no  pleasure,  but  in  which  she  would  not  fail. 
There  was  no  warmth  of  sympathy  in  her  eyes.  Yet 
sympathy  was  the  expression  which  had  lingered  in 
his  memory.  Instead,  there  was  a  haunting  look  of 
cold  troubled  reserve.  There  was  no  generous,  sensi- 
tive mobility  of  the  lips;  practiced  reserve  had  made 
their  firmness  appear  habitual.  He  checked  his  eager 
gaze  of  criticism.  Perhaps  he  was  misjudging  her. 
The  occasion,  the  environment,  the  fact  that  this  was 

276 


THE     DEVIL     IN     THE     VALLEY 

a  public  function,  the  reserve  caused  by  lack  of  har- 
mony with  her  associations — all  these  things  may  have 
combined  to  make  the  difference  in  her  appearance. 

The  next  moment  he  knew  that  she  saw  him,  for  a 
momentary  flush  of  pleasure  swept  like  a  wave  over 
her  face.  She  was  replying  to  the  compliments  of 
Colonel  Steptoe,  when  their  glances  met  and  held  for 
one  wavering  hesitating  instant.  In  that  glance  he 
seemed  to  read  shame,  fear,  and  a  beggar's  plea  for 
pity.  All  that,  he  read  in  the  eyes  of  this  beautiful 
proud  young  creature!  It  smote  him  like  the  deep 
thrust  of  a  spear. 

Osborne  waited  no  longer.  He  crossed  the  floor 
toward  them.  Brand  saw  him  coming,  and  a  slight 
frown  gathered  over  his  eyes.  Nevertheless  he  gave 
him  the  semblance  of  a  cordial  greeting,  and  expressed 
surprise  to  find  him  attached  to  the  colonel's  staff. 

"Oh,  I  found  him  sick  of  the  Platte  valley,  and 
ready  to  resign  his  commission,"  laughed  the 
colonel.  '*I  took  pity  on  him,  and  arranged  that  he 
should  go  to  California  with  me." 

Carissa  gave  him  a  pleasant  greeting.  By  con- 
scious effort  she  had  recovered  the  reserve  that 
wounded  pride  was  making  habitual,  but  which  had 
been  broken  for  the  moment  by  her  glad  surprise. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you  again,  Mr.  Osborne," 
she  said  as  she  gave  him  her  hand.  Somehow  her 
voice  made  him  feel  like  a  baby. 

"That  is  good  of  you.  I  was  afraid  you  might 
have  quite  forgotten  me,"  he  said. 

"My  troops  have  filled  your  city  well  nigh  full,  Mr. 
Brand.  We  have  crowded  them  into  warehouses,  pub- 
lic  houses,    and   private   residences,   until   I   doubt  if 

277 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

there's  a  cot  to  spare  in  the  valley,"  observed  the 
colonel,  not  very  wisely. 

"So  it  would  seem;  and  there's  much  more  drinking 
and  deviltry  among  them  than  we  are  used  to,  or  than 
we  care  for,  sir,"  said  Brand,  in  a  distinctly  offensive 
tone. 

Carissa  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  every  man  to  his  own  vice,  sir,"  the  colonel 
responded,  sharply.  "Drinking  and  gaming  are  unfor- 
tunately the  vices  of  soldiers." 

"And  not  only  that,  but  seduction  and  licentiousness. 
Tell  your  soldiers  to  have  a  care,  for  we  will  not  allow 
those  things  here,"  retorted  Brand,  fiercely.  His  face 
was  flushed  and  his  eyes  heated.  A  spirit  of  combat- 
iveness  seemed  to  possess  him. 

Colonel  Steptoe  turned  to  IMrs.  Brand  who,  supremely 
indifferent  now  to  this  incipient  scene,  was  looking 
out  across  the  ball-room. 

"I  have  been  very  favorably  impressed,"  he  said, 
"with  the  courtesy  of  the  people,  and  the  hospitality 
of  your  President,  madam.  Governor  Young  seems  to 
hold  securely  the  obedience  and  affection  of  his 
people." 

"Quite  so.  He  is  a  model  shepherd,  and  the  sheep 
know  his  voice."  answered  Carissa. 

Her  tone  was  absolutely  without  modulation,  as  she 
uttered  this  pious  sentence.  But  Osborne  was  thrilled 
with  what  he  thought  was  a  note  of  suppressed 
tragedy. 

The  music,  which  had  been  interrupted,  began 
again.  Colonel  Steptoe  was  about  to  take  his  leave, 
when  Brand  stepped  forward,  and  said,  "There  is  one 
thing   more.      I   understand   that   it   is  the  purpose  of 

278 


THE    DEVIL    IN     THE    VALLEY 


your  government  to  remove  President  Young  from  the 
governorship.  I  want  you  to  know  that  no  appointee 
of  the  President  of  the  United  States  will  have  a  par- 
ticle of  authority  or  power  in  this  territory,  without 
Brigham  Young's  consent." 

The  colonel  drew  himself  up  squarely,  and  his  face 
flushed.  For  a  moment  things  looked  red,  but  he  had 
his  temper  well  in  hand,  and  when  he  answered  it  was 
with  beautiful  calmness.  Said  he,  "Mr.  Brand,  you 
appear  to  be  strangely  excited,  but  I  do  not  hesitate 
to  say  to  you,  that  I  believe  Governor  Young  is  better 
fitted  for  the  position  he  holds,  than  any  other  man 
that  could  be  selected.  I  have  so  reported  to  Presi- 
dent Pierce."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  added, 
with  a  smile  of  grave  courtesy,  "Do  you  not  think, 
sir,  that  if  we  were  less  strangers  we  should  be  better 
friends?" 

"That  is  as  it  maybe,  sir.  I  certainly  desire  that 
your  sojourn  in  the  valley  should  result  in  no  harm. 
But  what  I  see,  even  in  this  ball-room,  does  not  give 
me  much  hope,"  replied  Brand,  harshly. 

With  his  hand  he  indicated  where  Captain  Ingalls 
and  two  or  three  fellow  officers  were  chatting  gaily 
and  familiarly  with  a  group  of  girls. 

Colonel  Steptoe  surveyed  the  group  coolly. 
"I  see  nothing  wrong."     He  turned  to  Brand  inquir- 
ingly.     "They  are  simply  establishing  those  relations 
that  society  everj^vhere  sanctions,  and   that   are  per- 
fectly natural  between  young  people." 

"No  social  relations  are  possible,  sir,  between  our 
women  and  girls  who  have  taken  their  endowments, 
and  the  drunken,  gambling,  blasphemous  soldiery  of 
a  government  that  would  rob  us  of  our  liberties.     Fur- 

279 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

ther,  if  a  woman  that  has  her  endowments  should  enter 
into  what  you  would  call  an  honorable  marriage  with 
a  Gentile,  she  would  be  guilty  of  adultery."  His  tone 
was  as  fierce  as  his  words  were  vulgar. 

The  colonel  was  disgusted,  and  was  not  at  all  afraid 
to  show  it.  "Good  God!  Sir,  I  am  not  used  to  hearing 
language  like  that  used  before  ladies.  I  wish  you  good 
evening."  With  this  parting  shot.  Colonel  Steptoe 
made  his  bow  and  retired. 

Osborne  was  thoroughly  amazed.  He  thought  that 
Brand  must  have  been  drinking.  He  seemed  a  totally 
different  kind  of  man  from  what  he  was  on  the  plains. 
He  looked  at  Carissa.  But  Carissa  showed  no  sign  of 
surprise.  The  cruel  calmness  of  her  features  may  have 
suggested  an  added  pain,  a  heightened  disdain,  but 
that  was  all.  She  must  have  been  accustomed  to  such 
outbreaks.  What  had  happened  during  the  past  year 
to  work  such  changes?  He  felt  it  impossible  to  make 
conversation,  and  was  stammering  vague  excuses 
before  slipping  away,  when  Carissa  said  to  him  openly: 

"You  must  come  and  see  us."  She  extended  her 
hand.  "Our  house  will  be  easy  to  find,  and  we  shall 
be  at  home  any  time." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Osborne.    "I — I  must  come." 

She  looked  at  him,  but  it  was  of  no  use,  he  could  not 
meet  her  eyes. 


280 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

MATERIALISM 

When  Osborne  returned  to  the  lodging  which  he 
shared  with  two  other  officers,  he  found  Lieutenant 
Maury  already  there,  ensconced  in  a  big  arm  chair, 
his  feet  on  the  table  and  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  reading. 

•'I  tell  you  this  is  great  stuff,"  he  exclaimed  as 
Osborne  entered. 

"What  have  you  there?"  asked  Osborne,  with  no 
particular  interest,  throwing  himself  down  on  the 
lounge. 

Maury  turned  the  book  over  and  examined  the  title 
page. 

"It's  the  sixth  volume  of  the  'Millennial  Star.'  This 
article  that  I've  been  reading  contains  in  a  nut-shell 
the  entire  philosophy  of  Mormondom.  It  isn't  badly 
put  together,  though  it  sounds  rather  startling." 

"Well,  let's  hear  it,"  said  Osborne,  listlessly. 

"All  right.  Here  goes.  'God  the  Father  Is  material 
— Jesus  Christ  is  material — angels  are  material — spirits 
are  material — men  are  material.  The  universe  is  mate- 
rial. Space  is  full  of  materiality.  Nothing  exists 
which  is  not  material.'  " 

Maury  peered  over  at  Osborne,  and  laughed,  saying, 
"What  do  ye  think  of  that  now?  Good,  ain't  it?  Solid 
mud  from  top  to  bottom.     Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

He  read  on:     "Immateriality  is  but  another  name 

for   nonentity.     It   is   the   negative   of  all  things  and 

beings,  of  all  existence. 

281 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"There  is  not  one  particle  of  proof  to  be  advanced  to 
establish  its  existence.  It  has  no  way  to  manifest 
itself  to  any  intelligence  in  Heaven  or  on  earth. 
Neither  God,  angels,  nor  men  could  possibly  conceive 
of  such  a  substance,  being  or  thing.  It  cannot  be 
seen,  felt,  heard,  tasted  or  smelled,  even  by  the 
strongest  organs  or  the  most  acute  sensibilities.  It  is 
neither  liquid  nor  solid,  soft  nor  hard.  It  can  neither 
extend  nor  contract.  In  short,  it  can  exert  no  influ- 
ence whatever — it  can  neither  act  nor  be  acted  upon; 
and  even  if  it  does  exist,  it  is  of  no  possible  use.  It 
possesses  no  one  desirable  property,  faculty  or  use; 
yet  strange  to  say  'immateriality'  is  the  modern  Chris- 
tian's God— his  anticipated  Heaven — his  immortal  self 
—his  all." 

Osborne  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and  said:  "See 
here,  Maury,  are  you  making  that  up  as  you  go  along?" 

"Thanks.  I  appreciate  the  compliment,  but  I  assure 
you  I  am  not  equal  to  it.  Just  you  listen  to  this,  and 
believe,  or  you  will  surely  be  damned,"  quoth  Maury. 
He  read  on:  "What  is  God?  He  is  a  material  organ- 
ized intelligence,  possessing  both  body  and  parts.  He 
is  in  the  form  of  a  man,  and  is  in  fact,  of  the  same  spe- 
cies, and  is  a  model  or  standard  of  perfection,  to  which 
man  is  destined  to  attain;  he  being  the  great  father 
and  head  of  the  whole  family.  He  can  go,  come,  con- 
verse, reason,  eat,  drink,  love,  hate,  rejoice,  possess, 
and  enjoy.  He  can  also  traverse  space,  with  all  the 
ease  and  intelligence  necessary  for  moving  from  planet 
to  planet  and  from  system  to  system.  This  Being 
cannot  occupy  two  distinct  places  at  once,  therefore 
he  cannot  be  everywhere  present.  For  evidence  and 
illustration  of  this  God,  and  his  personal  organization, 

282 


MATERIALISM 

powers  and  attributes,  we  refer  to  the  Scriptures  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments,  which  speak  abundantly  of 
his  body,  parts,  passions,  powers,  and  of  his  convers- 
ing, walking,  eating,  drinking,  etc.;  for  instance,  his 
taking  dinner  with  Abraham. 

"What  are  angels?  They  are  intelligences  of  the 
human  species.  Many  of  them  are  the  offspring  of 
Adam  and  Eve.  That  is,  they  are  men  who  have,  like 
Enoch  or  Elijah,  been  translated,  or  like  Jesus  Christ, 
been  raised  from  the  dead;  consequently  they  possess 
a  natural  body  of  flesh  and  bones;  can  eat,  drink,  walk, 
converse,  reason,  love,  fight,  wrestle,  sing,  or  play  on 
musical  instruments.  They  can  go  or  come  on  foreign 
missions,  in  heaven,  earth  or  hell;  they  can  traverse 
space,  and  visit  the  different  worlds  with  all  the  ease 
and  alacrity  with  which  God  and  Christ  do  the  same, 
being  possessed  of  similar  organizations,  powers  and 
attributes  in  a  degree. 

"What  are  spirits?  They  are  material  organizations, 
intelligences,  possessing  body  and  parts  in  the  like- 
ness of  the  temporal  body,  but  not  composed  of  flesh 
and  bones,  but  of  some  substance  less  tangible.  In 
short  they  are  men  in  embryo;  intelligences  waiting  to 
come  into  the  natural  world,  and  take  upon  them  flesh 
and  bones,  that  through  birth,  death  and  the  resurrec- 
tion, they  may  also  be  perfected  in  the  material  organ- 
ization. Such  was  Jesus  Christ,  and  such  were  we 
before  we  came  into  this  world,  and  such  we  will  be 
again,  in  the  intervening  space  between  death  and 
resurrection. 

"What  are  men?  They  are  the  offspring  of  God  the 
father,  and  brothers  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  were  once 
intelligent  spirits   in  the   presence   of  God,  and  were 

283 


BY    ORDER     OF    THE     PROPHET 

with  him  before  the  earth  was  formed.  They  are  now 
in  disguise,  as  it  were,  in  order  to  pass  through  the 
several  changes,  and  the  experience  necessary  to  con- 
stitute them  perfect  beings. 

"What  are  ail  these  beings,  taken  together  or  summed 
up  under  one  head?  They  are  one  great  family,  all  of 
the  same  species,  all  related  to  each  other,  all  bound 
together  by  kindred  ties,  interests,  sympathies  and 
affections.  In  short,  they  are  all  gods;  or,  rather, 
men  are  the  offspring  or  children  of  the  gods,  and 
destined  to  adv^ance  by  degrees,  and  to  make  their 
way  by  a  progressive  series  of  changes,  till  they 
become  like  their  father  in  heaven,  and  like  Jesus 
Christ — their  elder  brother. 

"Thus  perfected,  the  whole  family  will  possess  the 
material  universe,  that  is,  the  earth  and  all  other 
planets  and  worlds,  as  'an  inheritance  incorruptible, 
undefiled  and  that  fadeth  not  away.'  They  will  also 
continue  to  organize,  people,  redeem  and  perfect  other 
systems  which  are  now  in  the  womb  of  chaos,  and 
thus  go  on  increasing  their  several  dominions,  till  the 
weakest  child  of  God  which  now  exists  upon  the  earth 
will  possess  more  dominion,  more  property,  more  sub- 
jects, and  more  power  and  glory  than  is  possessed  by 
Jesus  Christ,  or  by  his  father,  while  at  the  same  time 
Jesus  Christ  and  his  father  will  have  their  dominion, 
kingdoms  and  subjects  increased  in  proportion. 

"Such  are  the  wealth,  the  dignity,  the  nobility,  the 
titles  and  honors  to  which  we  'Mormons'  aspire." 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  chances?  Shall 
we  take  a  ticket?"  said  Maury,  as  he  tossed  the  book 
upon  the  table  and  reached  for  a  match. 

"I   think  not.      I   am   not   lucky  in  lotteries.     Some 

284 


MATERIALISM 

other  chap  would  draw  the  prize  of  princedom,  and  I 
should  remain  an  everlasting  pauper,"  remarked 
Osborne. 

Said  Maury,  "Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  old  man, 
that  the  revelation  concerning  polygamy  is  entirely 
consistent  with  all  this?" 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"It's  plain  enough.  The  modern  patriarch,  who  is 
able  to  number  his  wives  by  the  score,  has  just  that 
much  the  start  over  his  inferior  monogamist  brother  in 
the  race  they  are  running  for  dominion,  power,  thrones, 
subjects  and  other  prerogatives  of  the  godhead.  It  is 
not  a  matter  of  lust,  you  see.  It  is  simply  the  passion 
for  power." 

"Oh,  dash  it  all,  Maury.  I've  had  enough  of  this 
for  one  time,"  cried  Osborne. 

"I  heard  of  a  family,  yesterday,  consisting  of  two 
men  and  four  women;  the  men's  first  wives  being 
sisters,  and  their  second  wives  each  a  sister  of  the 
other  man,  all  living  in  one  house.  Figure  out  for  me 
the  relationship  of  their  children  will  you?"  said 
Maury,   laughing. 

"I  wonder  how  the  dickens  the  women  endure  it!" 
exclaimed  Osborne,  thinking  of  Carissa. 

"Endure  it!"  replied  Maury,  with  a  sneer.  "Why, 
they  are  as  strong  advocates  of  the  system  as  the  men. 
It  just  suits  some  of  them." 

"Probably.  But  not  all,  that  I'll  swear.  My  friend, 
Mrs.  Brand — if  it  isn't  hell  to  her,  I'm  a  nigger," 
answered  Osborne  vehemently. 

"Yes.  I've  met  her  once.  Gad,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  fellow  who  wasn't  satisfied  with  her  alone, 
ought  to  be  condemned  to   husband  a  thousand  old 

285 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

hags,"  remarked  Maury.  He  added:  "Don't  you 
think  we'd  better  warn  Ingalls?  He's  carrying  things 
with  rather  a  high  hand,  and  is  liable  to  get  into 
trouble  over  these  girls.  I'd  hate  to  see  him  trapped 
into  an  Indian  ambush." 

"Oh,  I  think  Ingalls  can  take  care  of  himself.  But 
as  you  like,"  replied  Osborne,  wishing  his  companion 
good-night. 


286 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

THE    HOPE    OF    ESCAPE 

On  the  following  morning  Osborne  called  upon 
Carissa.  The  house  was  like  many  others  in  the 
vicinity,  built  of  adobe  with  a  frame  lean-to  at  the 
back.  There  was  evidence  of  care  and  taste  in  the 
lawn  and  flower  garden,  and  quick-growing  vines  that 
covered  the  veranda  and  sheltered  the  windows.  A 
bright-faced  little  fellow,  playing  in  a  heap  of  sand 
and  pebbles  near  the  door,  observed  his  approach,  and 
called  merrily  to  him.  Osborne  thought  he  could 
detect  the  mother's  features  in  the  face  of  the  boy. 
He  was  chatting  with  the  little  customer  when  Carissa 
appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Ah,"  she  said  as  they  shook  hands.  "I  was  afraid 
you  might  not  come." 

"But  you  told  me  I  may?  If  you  had  told  me  I 
may  not,  I  should  have  come  all  the  same,"  he  said 
laughing. 

The  room  they  entered  was  prettily  furnished. 
Carissa  seemed  ill  at  ease,  almost  nervous.  They  had 
been  talking  a  little  while  when  she  said:  "Mr.  Brand 
has  forbidden  me  receiving  anyone  who  is  not  of  his 
faith.  But  I  must  talk  with  you.  Last  night  it 
seemed  as  though  you  brought  back  a  bit  of  my  old 
life.     How  long  ago  it  seems!" 

Osborne  was  touched.  He  knew  her  trouble.  She 
had  suffered  bitter  disillusion.  He  remembered  how 
keenly  she  had  anticipated  her  life  with  the  Saints. 

287 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 


"I  felt  that  you  were  unhappy  last  night,"  he  said. 
"I  knew  that  you  must  be,  when  once  you  learned  the 
real  condition  of  things." 

"Yes,  it  was  all  true.  Those  terrible  charges  were 
not  false  charges  after  all.  I  am  learning  to  take 
refuge  against  weakness  in  bitterness.  There  is  no 
other  way.  You  cannot  know  how  hopeless  is  resist- 
ance," she  said,  pitifully. 

"What  is  it?  Tell  me  for  God's  sake!"  cried 
Osborne. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  all,  but  it  has  come  to  this:  I  have 
consented  that  my  husband  should  marry  another  wife. 
I  was  compelled  to  consent,  or  be  torn  from  my  child 
and  become  an  outcast.  But  as  the  time  draws  near,  I 
find  that  I  cannot  go  through  with  it,  it  will  kill  me. 
If  it  were  only  for  myself,  I  would  rather  die.  But 
how  can  I  let  my  boy  grow  up  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
wickedness?"  murmured  Carissa,  her  voice  shaking. 

"Is  your  husband  capable  of  such  brutality?" 
exclaimed  Osborne,  horrified. 

"It  is  more  than  two  months  ago  since  he  told  me 
that  God  had  directed  him  to  take  another  wife,  and 
that  he  must  obey.  At  first  I  was  speechless.  I  could 
not  believe  his  words.  When  I  reminded  him  of  his 
promise — for  he  did  promise  me — he  declared  that  to 
keep  it  would  imperil  m.y  soul  and  his.  He  became 
angry  and  left  me.  He  did  not  return  to  me  that 
night.  I  thought  of  flight,  but  there  was  no  way;  I 
thought  of  death  for  my  boy  and  myself,  but  God 
stayed  my  hand.  I  tried  to  pray,  but  was  like  a  child 
lost  in  the  dark.  When  he  returned  he  asked  me  if  I 
had  decided  to  submit.  I  besought  him  by  his  better 
self  to  be  true  to  his  promise,  and  reminded  him  of  the 

288 


THE     HOPE     OF     ESCAPE 

happy  past  before  these  evil  days  had  come.  I 
thought  he  was  softened,  but  he  was  not,  and  when  at 
last  I  realized  it,  my  heart  hardened  against  him.  I 
accused  him  of  having  deceived  me  from  the  begin- 
ning. Again  he  was  angry,  and  when  I  besought  him 
to  send  me  away  with  my  boy  and  then  to  do  as  he 
liked,  he  declared  that  if  I  went  I  must  go  alone  and 
on  my  own  resources.  That  night  they  took  my 
boy  from  me  and  kept  him  until  I  promised  to  sub- 
mit." 

As  she  paused  as  if  from  exhaustion,  dry-eyed  and 
with  flushed  cheeks,  Osborne  arose  and  walked  across 
the  floor  and  back. 

"This  is  simply  damnable!  Is  there  nothing  that 
can  be  done?"  he  said  fiercely. 

"When  I  heard  that  the  soldiers  were  here,  I  had  a 
wild  dream  of  throwing  myself  on  them  for  protec- 
tion. But  that  is  past.  I  feel  that  life  holds  nothing 
for  me.  If  I  should  die  I  want  you,  if  possible,  to 
take  my  boy  away  from  this  awful  place.  Will  you, 
my  friend?"  The  tears  were  streaming  down  her 
face. 

"See  here,  Mrs.  Brand,  so  help  me  God,  we'll  get 
you  both  away!  Don't  shake  your  head.  We'll  do  it. 
This  vile  outrage  shall  stop,"  said  Osborne  grimly. 

A  new  look  came  into  her  eyes,  kindled  by  his  brave 
words;  but  it  was  followed  by  one  of  infinite  sadness. 

"My  friend,  you  don't  know.  That  is  hopeless," 
she  said  mournfully. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Brand,  will  you  consent  if  we  can 
arrange  it?  You  owe  it  to  your  boy  as  well  as  to  your- 
self to  make  your  escape  from  this  living  hell,"  said 
Osborne. 

289 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

In  the  light  of  her  story  Osborne  could  not  under- 
stand her  slightest  hesitation.  Did  she  still  love  her 
husband?  Impulsively  he  leaned  forward,  and  touch- 
ing her  hand,  said:  "Mrs.  Brand,  if  he  persists  in  his 
purpose  to  take  another  wife,  shall  you  continue  to  live 
with  him?" 

"No,  I  could  not,"  she  said  simply. 

"In  that  event  will  you  permit  me  to  act  for  you? 
Can  you  trust  me?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  can  trust  you." 

"Then  if  this  thing  that  you  fear  proves  inevitable, 
will  you  trust  yourself  to  my  guidance  for  the  sake  of 
your  boy?" 

"Yes,  yes,  if  it  really  comes  to  the  worst  I  will,  for 
the  sake  of  my  boy,"  and  she  bowed  her  head  in  her 
hands  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

Osborne's  heart  ached  to  comfort  her,  but  what 
could  he  say?  He  felt  like  swearing  hard,  but  that 
would  not  help  matters. 

Presently  the  paroxysm  passed,  and  Carissa  raised 
her  head. 

Osborne  rose  to  his  feet.  "I  am  going  to  Rush 
Valley  to-night  with  some  horses.  When  I  return  I 
will  see  you.  Good-bye."  He  took  her  hand  and 
said,  "God  help  you.  Keep  a  stout  heart.  You  will 
need  it." 

Osborne  went  directly  to  Colonel  Steptoe  and  asked 
for  an  interview.  He  told  his  story  graphically  and 
fully.  The  colonel  listened  with  interest,  but  at  the 
mention  of  the  plan  for  interference,  shook  his  head 
and  said: 

"My  dear  boy,  do  you  want  to  plunge  us  all  into 
difficulties?     I  tell  you  it  can't  be  done.     We  should 

290  i 


THE       HOPE       OF       ESCAPE 


be  hopelessly  embroiled  with  the  authorities,  and  you 
would  be  caught  and  shot  before  you  reached  the 
southern  settlements." 

"Will  you  discharge  me  from  the  command  and  let 
me  shift  for  myself?"  asked  Osborne,  who  presumed 
somewhat  on  his  acknowledged  favoritism  with  the 
colonel. 

"I  will  have  you  locked  up  in  the  guard-house  for 
insubordination,  if  you  do  not  drop  this  business 
immediately!" 

Osborne  flushed  angrily. 

"Tut,  tut.  boy,  don't  be  hasty.  We  shall  have  to 
stay  here  all  winter.  When  we  leave  in  the  spring, 
you  can  come  back  for  any  baggage  that  may  be  for- 
gotten, and  I  will  help  you  to  carry  it  away.  Now 
clear  out  of  here  and  cultivate  your  patience,"  quoth 
the  colonel,  whose  heart  was  in  the  right  place. 

When  Osborne  returned  from  Rush  Valley,  Lieuten- 
ant Maury  met  him  in  front  of  the  Union  Hotel. 

"Well,  old  man,"  he  said,  "glad  to  see  you  back 
again.  Have  you  any  letters  that  you  want  to  send 
off?  There's  a  party  here  from  the  states  on  their 
way  to  California." 

"Where  are  they,  and  when  do  they  start?"  inquired 
Osborne. 

"They  are  camped  at  the  southern  corral,  and  will 
be  here  for  a  day  or  two." 

The  thought  of  arranging  for  Caris&a  to  be  smuggled 
away  in  one  of  the  wagons  struck  his  mind. 

"As  soon  as  I've  made  my  report  to  the  colonel,  I 
have  a  call  to  make,  even  if  it  is  late,"  remarked 
Osborne. 

"W^here  are  you  going?  to  your  friends,  the  Brands? 

291 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

I  suppose  you  know  he  has  doubled  his  wives  while 
you  were  gone?" 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Osborne,  sharply. 

"Well,  he  took  another  wife,  that's  all,  the  day  after 
you  left.  It's  deuced  rough  on  that  sweet  little 
woman." 

Osborne  staggered  as  if  he  had  been  shot. 

"The  damned  scoundrel!"  he  cried. 

Maury's  hand  shot  out,  and  as  he  gripped  Osborne's 
he  said,  solemnly,  "Amen  to  that!  He  is  a  damned 
scoundrel." 


392 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   CEREMONY    OF  DIVORCE 

While  talking  with  Colonel  Steptoe  at  the  reception 
and  ball  given  in  honor  of  the  soldiers,  Brand  had  been 
intensely  annoyed  by  observing  that  Maggie  had  been 
a  center  of  attraction  for  many  of  the  soldiers.  He 
had  scarcely  seen  her  since  his  return  from  Parowan. 
During  this  time  she  had  been  living  in  one  of  Presi- 
dent Young's  houses  with  her  father,  who  was 
employed  as  an  assistant  at  the  tithing-house. 

On  the  following  morning  he  went  to  see  her,  and 
his  resentment  was  very  evident  from  his  constrained 
manner  of  greeting. 

She  was  baking  a  large  batch  of  ginger  cookies,  and 
her  face  was  flushed  with  the  heat.  She  met  him  at 
the  door  and  stood  there,  an  attractive  picture  of  good 
nature  and  high  spirits,  laughing  gaily  as  she  fanned 
herself  with  a  large  straw  hat. 

"You  can't  come  in,  Brother  Brand,  unless  it's  on 
business.  And  then  you  had  better  be  careful,  the 
place  is  all  cluttered  up,  flour  and  dough  everywhere." 

"It /.J  on  business,"  he  responded  a  little  shortly. 
"I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  few  minutes." 

"All  right,  perhaps  I  can  find  a  place."  She 
brushed  a  chair  with  her  apron,  set  it  down  by  the 
door,  and  then  turned  to  the  stove. 

He  watched  her  while  she  took  a  long  iron  tray  from 
the  oven  and  put  another  in  its  place. 

293 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"I  have  to  watch  them  or  they'll  burn,"  she 
explained. 

Brand  continued  to  look  on  while  she  emptied  the 
fragrant,  smoking  tray  upon  a  large,  heaped-up 
earthen  platter  and  neatly  covered  the  whole  with  a 
bit  of  snow-white  linen. 

His  resentment  was  already  being  lost  in  his  pleas- 
ure at  watching  her  brisk  and  graceful  movements. 

"That's  a  pretty  large  pile  for  a  small  family,"  he 
said,  "Whom  are  they  for?" 

"Taste  it,"  she  said,  extracting  one  from  the  pile 
and  offering  it  to  him.  The  roguish  look  in  her  eyes 
became  her  well.  Brand  took  the  offered  cake,  but 
resisted  the  temptation  to  seize  the  plump,  flour-be- 
sprinkled fingers  as  well. 

"I'm  baking  them  for  the  army  officers  I  met  last 
night,  if  you  want  to  know,"  she  said. 

The  change  that  came  over  him  was  instantaneous. 
His  face  darkened,  he  flung  the  cake  through  the  open 
doorway  and  rose  wrathfuUy. 

"What  have  you  to  do  with  them?"  he  demanded. 

She  looked  at  him  in  utter  surprise  and  bewilder- 
ment. 

"I  saw  you  last  night,"  he  continued  sternly.  "You 
encouraged  their  attentions  and  their  flattery.  Is  that 
the  way  a  true  daughter  of  the  church  should  behave?" 

"What  was  the  harm?"  she  asked  in  momentary 
resentment  at  his  injustice.  "Brother  Brigham  told 
us  to  amuse  them." 

"You  put  a  lot  of  liking  into  your  obedience,"  said 
Brand  roughly,  but  with  the  true  spirit  of  a  Puritan. 

"It  meant  nothing,"  pleaded  Maggie.  "I  couldn't 
help  but  enjoy  myself,  but  it  was  all  in  fun." 

294 


THE     CEREMONY    OF     DIVORCE 

"And  I  suppose  it  is  to  carry  out  the  fun  that  you 
are  doing  all  this  baking  to-day."  Brand  pointed 
accusingly  at  the  table. 

"Is  that  wrong?"  asked  Maggie.  "They  told  such 
terrible  stories  about  army  rations  and  hardtack  that  I 
thought  it  would  be  a  pleasant  surprise." 

"No  doubt  it  would  be,"  he  said,  meaningly.  "But 
what  will  they  think  of  you?  and  how  will  they  want 
to  return  the  favor?" 

Poor  IMaggie  was  too  confused  to  make  further 
defence. 

"They  are  a  lot  of  drinking,  gambling,  licentious 
fellows,  who  would  delight  to  ruin  you  if  they  could, 
and  who  are  now  probably  making  you  the  subject  of 
their  barrack-room  jests.  Besides,  they  are  our  ene- 
mies, and  should  be  treated  with  only  the  most  distant 
courtesy  while  we  are  compelled  to  harbor  them." 

"Is  that  true?"  she  asked,  "and  does  it  offend  you?" 

"It  is  true,"  he  answered,  regarding  her  with 
unbending  severity. 

Maggie  turned  swiftly  to  the  table,  drew  off  the 
cloth,  and  seizing  the  dish  dumped  its  contents  into 
the  stove. 

Brand  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  arm,  but  he 
was  too  late. 

"They  would  have  done  for  the  poor  emigrants, 
Maggie." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  dropping  the  dish,  turned 
and  looked  eagerly  up  at  him.  What  she  saw  encour- 
aged her,  for  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
buried  her  face  upon  his  shoulder. 

"I    was    afraid    that    you    had    forgotten,"    he    said 

tenderly. 

295 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

"It  was  you  that  seemed  to  have  forgotten,"  she 
sobbed,  and  drew  his  face  down  to  hers. 

That  afternoon  was  an  unusually  trying  one  for 
Brand. 

On  his  way  home  he  met  Elder  Carson,  who  stopped 
him  for  a  word  of  greeting,  and  said  as  he  was  leaving 
him:  "I  suppose  we  shall  be  overrun  this  winter  by 
those  damned  soldiers.  There  was  a  row  last  night  at 
Welch's,  and  this  morning  I  saw  a  dandified  young 
officer  go  into  your  place." 

Brand  made  no  reply,  but  he  quickened  his  pace, 
and  an  unreasoning  tumult  of  anger  raged  in  his  heart. 

"I  forbade  her  to  receive  any  visits  from  strangers," 
he  muttered  to  himself. 

When  within  sight  of  the  house  he  halted  and  pulled 
himself  together. 

"This  will  never  do.  She  must  be  able  to  go 
through  with  to-morrow'  s  affair,  I  will  say  nothing 
about  it." 

Nevertheless  there  was  an  added  hardness  in  his 
manner  and  in  his  eye,  as  he  entered  Carissa's  sitting- 
room. 

Something  in  the  forlornness  of  her  attitude  as  she 
sat  looking  out  of  the  western  window  at  the  setting 
sun,  one  hand  lying  listlessly  in  her  lap,  and  the  other 
resting  upon  the  curly  head  of  her  boy,  who,  tired 
with  his  play,  was  snuggling  contentedly  at  her  side, 
appealed  to  him. 

At  the  sight,  a  certain  feeling  of  remorse  pushed 
back  his  unworthy  thoughts  of  resentment,  and  soft- 
ened his  voice  to  unwonted  kindness: 

"Carissa,  how  lonely  you  look!" 

So    absorbed   was    she    that  she  had  not  heard  his 

296 


THE    CEREMONY    OF     DIVORCE 

entrance,  and  when  she  heard  him  she  started 
violently. 

"Oh,  Eaton,  my  husband,  I  should  never  be  lonely 
again  if  I  were  only  sure  of  your  love,"  she  answered, 
rising  to  greet  him. 

Brand  was  afraid  of  what  would  follow  if  he  yielded 
to  his  mood  of  tenderness. 

"Nonsense,  Carissa,  you  know  that  I  love  j^ou.  It 
is  your  spirit  of  disobedience  that  isolates  you  and 
causes  you  to  feel  lonely.  But  I  will  not  upbraid  you 
for  what  is  past." 

His  words  seemed  so  assured  and  final!  But  she 
would  not  quite  surrender  hope. 

She  stepped  close  to  him  and  smiled  bravely  and 
sweetly  into  his  face  as  she  said:  "Life  could  be  so 
beautiful  and  true  with  us  two  together.  God  has 
given  us  this  little  one,  he  is  mine  and  yours — see,  he 
bears  our  blended  image!  Home  could  be  such  a 
sacred  sanctuary,  such  a  holy  place,  such  as  we  said 
we  would  build  together,  when  first  we  talked  of  the 
future.  Do  you  think  that  it  is  God's  voice  that  bids 
us  destroy  all  this?" 

"Who  speaks  of  destruction?  Carissa,  you  are 
unreasonable."  He  took  refuge  in  his  irritation. 
"Are  there  no  happy  homes  in  this  valley?  Are  there 
no  fond  parents  who  love  their  children?  You  are  so 
saturated  with  prejudice  that  God's  plan  arouses  your 
jealousy.  Carissa,  put  this  away  from  you.  You  have 
promised  to  be  obedient  and  I  claim  that  obedience 
for  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow!"  All  her  strength  failed  her.  She 
dropped  hopelessly  into  her  chair. 

"There  are  certain  preliminaries  that  must  be  gone 

297 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

through.  You  must  receive  your  endowments.  You 
must  be  sealed  to  me  first." 

"Oh,  Eaton,  must  this  thing  go  on?  Is  our  life 
together  ended?" 

His  ears  were  deaf  to  her  heart-broken  cry. 

"It  must  go  on,  yes!  I  am  persuaded  that  your 
eternal  salvation  and  mine  depend  upon  it.  To  disobey 
is  apostasy.  But  our  life  together  is  not  ended,  it  is  just 
begun  and  we  will  belong  to  each  other  for  eternity  as 
well." 

His  tone  conveyed  an  impression  of  crushing  finality 
to  Carissa.  It  was  long  before  she  replied,  and  then 
she  spoke  as  though  driven  by  some  force  outside 
herself. 

"I  will  keep  my  promise,  but  I  shall  never  receive 
you  as  my  husband  after  this  is  done." 

He  did  not  believe  her.  He  was  firmly  persuaded 
that  she  would  yet  be  convinced.  Time  would  remedy 
matters.   But  the  threat  angered  him  and  he  turned  away. 

"I  shall  be  very  busy  this  evening.  You  must  be 
ready  by  nine  to-morrow,"  he  said,  as  he  left  her  and 
went  out. 

He  sent  a  messenger  to  notify  Maggie  to  be  at  the 
place  set  apart  for  the  conferring  of  endowments,  and 
strolled  off  toward  the  place  where  the  newly  arrived 
emigrants  were  fixing  their  camp  for  the  night.  The 
saying  of  Elder  Carson's  concerning  the  dandified  offi- 
cer crossed  his  mind.  He  knew  that  it  must  have  been 
Osborne  that  had  called  on  his  wife. 

"I'll  take  steps  after  to-morrow  to  see  that  the  visit 
is  not  repeated,"  he  thought. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  while  Osborne  at  Rush 
Valley  was   calculating  the  chances   of  being  able   to 

298 


THE     CEREMONY    OF     DIVORCE 

rescue  Carissa,  the  ceremony  was  being  performed  at 
Salt  Lake  City,  and  she  was  taking  the  part  that  many 
a  heart-broken  woman  has  taken  since  then  in  this 
system  of  evil  and  passion. 

How  great  a  trial  to  her  fortitude  the  endowment 
ceremonies  proved  to  be,  no  words  can  tell.  To  her, 
it  was  from  first  to  last  an  outrage  against  every 
womanly  feeling.  A  sacrilegious  mummery,  a  pro- 
faning of  every  sacred  tradition,  a  bold  farcical  com- 
pound of  buffonery,  licentious  suggestion,  and  Scrip- 
tural lore. 

At  the  outset  she  was  subjected  to  certain  washings 
and  anointings,  and  was  clothed  in  an  undergarment 
said  to  possess  magical  properties  of  healing  and  protec- 
tion. She  was  compelled  to  enact  the  part  of  Eve  in 
the  garden  of  Eden,  with  church  dignitaries  filling  the 
roles  of  God  and  the  devil.  She  repeated  blood- 
curdling oaths  never  to  reveal  the  mysteries  that  were 
there  made  known.  Finally,  after  several  long  hours 
of  initiatory  ceremony,  she  was  led  to  an  altar  and 
solemnly  sealed  to  her  husband  for  time  and  eternity. 

So  benumbed  were  all  her  sensibilities  that  she 
scarcely  thought  it  strange  that  iNIaggie  was  led  to 
her  side,  and  that  she  was  requested  to  place  Maggie's 
hand  in  the  hand  of  her  husband.  What  difference  did 
it  make?  It  was  for  her  a  horrible  ceremony  of  divorce^ 
and  she  was  going  through  it  that  she  might  not  be 
separated  from  her  boy. 

When  the  last  rite  was  performed  she  was  physically 
and  mentally  exhausted,  and  yet  strangely  relieved  of 
the  burden  which  she  had  been  bearing  so  long. 

She  was  almost  childishly  pleased  to  find  that  a  car- 
riage awaited  them,  and  they  would   not  have  to  walk. 

299 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

And  at  the  door  of  her  home  she  said,  with  perfect 
quietness  and  courtesy:  "You  need  not  come  in.  I 
shall  soon  be  rested.  You  will  want  to  take  your  new 
wife  home,  Eaton.      Good-bye.      Good-bye,  Maggie." 

She  retired  to  her  own  room,  and  in  a  few  moments 
was  sleeping  soundly. 

In  the  evening  Brand  came  in.  For  a  moment  he 
was  alarmed,  when  told  that  she  was  still  sleeping. 
Light  in  hand,  he  quietly  stole  into  the  chamber;  her 
regular  breathing  and  the  sight  of  her  lips  parted  in  a 
smile,  reassured  him. 

"Poor  girl,"  he  thought.  "This  sleep  will  do  her 
good." 

Before  taking  his  departure,  he  said  to  his  mother 
that  Carissa  must  have  her  sleep  out,  and  on  no  pre- 
text was  to  be  disturbed. 

It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  on  the 
following  day  that  Carissa  finally  opened  her  eyes. 

She  arose,  and  kneeling  by  her  bedside  found  herself 
naturally,  and  almost  in  the  language  of  childhood, 
thanking  her  Heavenly  Father  for  the  sweet  rest  of  the 
night,  and  with  no  impulse  to  follow  it  with  distressed 
and  anxious  petition. 

She  enjoyed  bathing  her  face  in  the  clear,  cold 
water,  that  had  come  from  the  mountains,  and  been 
brought  from  the  stream  flowing  past  their  door;  and 
found  a  luxury  in  uncoiling  the  great  masses  of  her 
hair,  and  running  her  comb  through  their  glossy 
folds. 

As  she  opened  the  door,  Moroni  came  running  to 
her,  and  her  heart  sprang  to  meet  him,  but  with 
no  spirit  of  anxious  foreboding,  such  as  she  had  expe- 
rienced with  every  conscious  thought  during  the  past 

300 


THE    CEREMONY    OF     DIVORCE 

months.  There  was  a  feeling  that  all  that  was  forever 
gone.  It  belonged  to  the  past.  A  new  life  had 
begun,  and  she  drew  a  deep  breath  of  thankfulness 
that  she  could  begin  it  so  free  from  regret  and  anxi- 
ety. Old  Mrs.  Brand,  usually  so  unobservant,  could 
not  fail  to  notice  the  miraculous  change  that  had  come 
to  her  son's  wife. 

"I  never  did  see  her  eat  with  such  relish,"  she  com- 
mented.     "Who'd  a  thought  it?" 

To  Carissa  there  was  alluring  invitation  in  the 
bright,  crisp  fall  day,  and  in  the  exhilarating  breath  of 
the  hills.  Clothing  herself  and  Moroni  warmly,  she 
took  his  hand  and  started  out. 

"Let  us  follow  the  water.  This  way,  darling,  up  to 
its  source." 

IMoroni  was  delighted  and  stretched  his  sturdy  legs 
briskly.  Soon  they  left  the  houses  behind  them,  and 
began  to  climb  a  sloping  grade.  All  about  them  was 
the  sage-brush,  tinting  the  landscape  with  a  silvery 
green.  Far  ahead  were  the  mountains  with  vivid  shades 
of  red  and  yellow  against  the  gray  background.  By 
their  side  the  little  rivulet,  dashing  merrily,  sang  its 
song  of  eternal  snows.  The  air  was  fresh  and  bracing, 
but  the  rays  of  the  sun  were  warm.  A  new  color  came 
into  Carissa's  cheeks,  and  a  new  brightness  into  her 
eyes. 

Finally,  panting  with  the  unaccustomed  exercise, 
she  turned,  and  holding  Moroni's  warm  hand,  looked 
over  the  panorama  of  valley  and  mountain. 

"This  is  glorious,"  she  said,  as  her  eyes  traveled 
from  the  near  foot-hills  of  the  north  to  the  lofty  snow- 
capped peaks  of  the  south,  and  traced  the  beautiful 
clear-cut  profile  of  the  range  that  closed  the  mighty 

301 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

gap  to  the  west.  Directly  before  her,  but  far  away 
and  shining  like  a  plate  of  silver,  was  the  Great  Salt 
Lake,  while  at  her  feet  was  the  city,  forming  a  com- 
paratively insignificant  blot  upon  the  wide  stretch  of 
impressive  landscape. 

"I  did  not  know  that  it  was  so  beautiful,"  she  said, 
and  seated  herself  in  the  midst  of  the  sweet-smelling 
sage,  and  seemed,  with  each  breath,  to  be  drawing  in 
new  stores  of  life  and  energy.  How  long  she  sat 
there  she  did  not  know.  She  was  not  thinking;  she 
was  resting,  body  and  soul.  Moroni  had  found  abun- 
dant occupation  in  exploring  the  holes  of  the  ground- 
squirrels,  and  in  launching  twigs  and  buds  upon  the 
swift-flowing  little  stream.     Finally  she  was  aroused. 

"I'se  hungry,  mamma." 

"Yes,  dear,  but  this  has  been  a  happy  day.  We  will 
come  again  to-morrow." 

A  shade  came  over  her  mind  as  she  thought  of  her 
husband,  but  she  put  it  away  easily. 

'That  is  past,"  she  said,  and  calling  to  Moroni, 
they  began  to  descend  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  over 
the  distant  hills. 

That  night  she  retired  very  early,  and  when  Brand, 
who  had  been  especially  busy  all  day,  came  to  see  her, 
he  found  her  sleeping  sweetly  as  before.  There  was 
a  strange  look  of  profound  peace  upon  her  beautiful 
face.  He  was  tempted  to  arouse  her,  but  something 
restrained  him,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment that  he  turned  away. 

The  next  morning  he  called  at  about  ten  o'clock. 
Old  Mrs.  Brand  was  alone  in  the  house. 

"Where  is  Carissa?"  he  asked. 

"She  has  gone  for  a  climb,  so  she  said.     She  took 

302 


THE     CEREMONY    OF     DIVORCE 

Moroni  and  a  package  with  something  to  eat.  She  told 
him  that  they  would  play  camping  out,  and  would 
picnic  all  by  themselves." 

"What  did  you  let  them  go  for?"  he  asked  angrily. 
"That's  a  strange  notion!" 

"I  don't  see  that  it's  any  harm,"  she  replied 
placidly.  "They  went  yesterday  and  came  back  with 
splendid  appetites.  She  is  looking  better,  too,  than  I 
have  ever  seen  her." 

As  Brand  went  out  he  gazed  long  up  the  hill  to  the 
eastward.  He  debated  with  himself  whether  he 
should  secure  a  horse  and  go  in  search  of  them,  but 
finally  he  said: 

"There's  surely  no  danger.  They  can't  go  far. 
They're  neither  of  them  strong  enough.  But  I  must 
caution  her.  Sometimes  the  Indians  come  down  into 
the  canyons." 


303 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE   AWAKENING 

That  evening  Brand  came  to  the  house  to  supper. 
Carissa  had  returned  from  her  excursion  and  was  in 
excellent  spirits.  She  welcomed  him  with  courtesy, 
but  evinced  neither  warmth  nor  restraint.  She  talked 
freely  of  the  delight  she  had  found  in  roaming  the 
hills  and  canyons  with  Moroni. 

A  blazing  fire  of  pine  logs  was  crackling  in  the 
open  grate;  the  strong  ruddy  light  brought  out  her 
fine  profile  in  relief.  She  was  clad  in  a  loose  gown 
and  reclined  easily  in  a  large  highbacked  rocker,  one 
slippered  foot  resting  lightly  upon  the  bearskin  rug 
before  the  hearth.  Her  face  was  in  repose,  her  eyes 
dreaming,  her  hands  resting;  she  made  a  very  attrac- 
tive picture. 

Brand  felt  very  much  like  making  love  to  her.  And 
after  all,  was  she  not  his  wife?  Yet  there  was  that 
about  her  that  made  him  hesitate. 

Presently  he  yielded  to  inclination  and  gently  took 
her  hand  in  his. 

She  did  not  draw  it  away,  but  looked  up  in  pained 
surprise. 

"Don't,  please.  You  hurt  me,"  she  said  in  a  level 
colorless  voice. 

Brand  dropped  her  hand  instantly.  A  frown  gath- 
ered upon  his  brow. 

She  drew  a  breath  of  relief  and  half  smiled  up  at 
him. 

304 


THE        AWAKENING 

"It  is  better  so — is  it  not?  You  have  your  other 
interests  now,"  she  said  quietly. 

"Have  you  ceased  to  care  for  me,  Carissa?"  asked 
Brand,  hoarsely. 

"Is  it  not  better  so?"  she  answered.  "I  shall  be 
happy  with  our  boy.  I  shall  not  trouble  about  the 
past,  and  the  future  is  in  the  hands  of  God." 

Brand  knew  not  what  to  say.  He  was  angry  at  his 
repulse,  but  this  anger  was  struggling  with  a  feeling  of 
respect  for  her  attitude.  Nevertheless  there  was  con- 
siderable irritation  in  his  voice  as  he  said,  rising  to  go: 

"Very  well;  if  it  troubles  you  and  hurts  you,  I  will 
not  stay."  A  disagreeable  impulse  led  him  to  add: 
"I  have  taken  a  house  for  Maggie  on  West  Temple 
Street.     If  I  can  ever  serve  you,  let  me  know." 

After  he  had  gone  he  remembered  that  he  had  not 
forbidden  her  receiving  any  further  visits  from 
Osborne.     He  thought  of  returning,  but  he  did  not. 

"I'll  settle  that  business  with  the  damned  beggar 
himself,  if  necessary,"  he  thought. 

After  that  little  vituperative  duet  between  Maury 
and  Osborne,  the  latter  hurried  up  to  his  room,  washed 
away  the  stains  of  travel,  and  put  on  his  uniform.  A 
little  later  he  made  his  way  in  the  direction  of 
Carissa' s  cottage.  The  streets  were  very  dark,  only 
occasionally  a  feeble  light  glimmered  from  the  small 
window  of  a  house.  He  left  the  sidewalk  and  stepped 
to  the  middle  of  the  street,  to  avoid  the  cross  ditches, 
which  were  very  numerous  and  carried  water  onto  the 
lawns  and  gardens.  As  he  passed  the  corner  of  West 
Temple  Street,  he  caught  sight  of  Brand  by  the  flash- 
ing light  of  a  store  window,  going  in  the  opposite 
direction  from  his  home.   Osborne  quickened  his  pace. 

305 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"I  may  be  able  after  all  to  see  her  for  a  moment,  and 
find  out  what  has  happened,"  he  thought.  As  he 
neared  the  house  his  eye  caught  the  play  of  the  fire- 
light upon  Carissa's  sitting-room  window.  Without 
hesitation  he  crossed  the  lawn  and  looked  in. 

She  was  sitting  before  the  fire  where  Brand  had  left 
her,  but  she  now  held  in  her  arms  her  night-robed 
child.  Her  cheek  was  resting  upon  his,  and  she  was 
rocking  him  gently  back  and  forth,  while  the  faint 
murmur  of  a  "lullaby"  came  to  the  ears  of  the 
watcher  outside. 

Osborne  could  scarcely  credit  his  senses. 

She  seemed  so  much  happier  and  more  contented 
than  he  had  ever  expected  to  find  her.  He  went 
round  to  the  door  and  tapped  gently,  then  lifted  the 
latch. 

"May  I  come  in,   for  just  a  moment?" 

"Come  in,  Mr.  Osborne,  and  excuse  me  a  moment," 
she  answered,  smiling,  as  she  rose  and  carried  Moroni 
into  the  next  room. 

"What  has  happened?  You  look  like  a  new  woman, 
like  your  old  self,  indeed!"  cried  Osborne,  when  she 
returned  and  offered  him  her  hand. 

"Moroni  and  I  have  been  climbing  the  hills,"  she 
said  with  a  light  laugh.  "Mother  Nature  is  good  to 
us  when  we  come  to  her  with  our  troubles." 

"Why,  yes,  she's  a  brick  to  cure  us,  if  we  can  only 
take  her  medicine,"  replied  Osborne,  wondering. 

Her  words  and  manner  somehow  troubled  him,  and 
yet  he  was  glad  that  the  nervous  look  was  gone  from 
her  eyes.  If  she  was  under  the  influence  of  some 
mental  anaesthetic,  he  certainly  did  not  care  to  dis- 
turb its  operation,  and  so  he  quietly  turned  the  subject 

306 


THE       A    W^    A    K     E     N     I     N     G 

to  her  rambles,  the  beauty  of  the  country,  and  his  own 
experiences  on  the  plains.  It  was  late  when  he  rose 
to  go. 

"May  I  accompany  you  sometime  on  your  jaunts, 
Mrs.  Brand?" 

"Certainly,  whenever  you  like,"  she  responded. 

Out  in  the  street  he  was  halted  by  a  man  calling: 

"Hello  there!    Wait  a  moment.    Can  I  get  a  light?" 

He  gave  the  man  a  match,  and  as  soon  as  it  was 
lighted,  it  was  held  up  a  moment  toward  Osborne's 
face,  and  then  all  was  darkness. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  a  voice  exclaimed,  sneeringly. 
"I  wondered  who  it  might  be  that  was  visiting  Sister 
Brand  at  this  late  hour." 

Osborne  struck  out  viciously  with  his  clenched  fist, 
but  his  challenger  had  slipped  away.  He  heard  the 
sound  of  retreating  footsteps,  and  darted  in  pursuit, 
but  he  soon  found  that  he  was  chasing  empty  shad- 
ows. His  mind  was  filled  with  vague  fears  as  he  made 
his  way  back  to  his  lodgings. 

During  the  next  few  ^veeks  Carissa  lived  almost 
altogether  out  of  doors.  The  weather  was  superb,  and 
it  came  to  be  her  custom  to  take  Moroni  soon  after 
breakfast,  and,  with  a  light  lunch  in  her  basket,  leave 
the  city  and  climb  the  hills  to  the  north  or  the  east, 
or  follow  the  glancing  waters  of  City  Creek  or  Emi- 
gration Canyon.  Osborne  did  not  often  visit  her, 
although  on  two  occasions  he  joined  her  in  her  explo- 
rations, and  the  hours  spent  together  were  to  him  very 
pleasant. 

Brand  did  not  trouble  her.  He  was  nursing  his 
anger  and  waiting  with  irritable  expectancy  until  she 
should  be  in  a  mood  to  receive  him  again  with  becom- 

307 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHEl^ 

ing  submission.  He  called,  it  is  true,  several  times, 
but  her  unvarying  manner  of  greeting  him  sent  him 
away  silent,  but  with  increased  inward  exasperation. 
He  was  often  most  unaccountably  cross  with  Maggie, 
and  while  he  was  about  his  business  he  wore  an 
unbending  air  of  sternness.  He  had  heard  nothing 
of  Osborne's  second  visit,  and  knew  nothing  of  his 
being  a  party  to  Carissa's  rambles,  but  he  somehow 
began  to  associate  him  with  his  wife's  acquiescence  in 
their  separation. 

The  sight  of  a  soldier  became  intolerable  to  him, 
and  he  came  near  to  a  serious  altercation  with  Captain 
Ingalls,  who,  in  passing  with  a  group  of  officers, 
chanced  to  blow  some  cigar  smoke  into  his  face. 

"You  damned  impudent  whelp,  you!"  cried  Brand, 
furiously,  and  made  a  motion  to  strike. 

Captain  Ingalls  retreated  a  step  and  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  sw^ord. 

President  Young,  who  was  standing  in  a  doorway 
and  had  witnessed  it  all,  immediately  interposed.  He 
laid  his  hand  upon  Brand's  shoulder,  and  said  author- 
itatively: 

"Brother  Brand,  you  must  apologize  for  that  remark 
instantly." 

Brand  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said,  while  a 
flush  covered  his  face: 

"I  do  apologize.  I  am  in  a  state  of  nervous  irrita- 
bility, and  scarcely  know  what  I  said." 

Captain  Ingalls  saluted  an  ironical  acknowledg- 
ment, and  the  incident  ended. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you.  Brother  Brand?" 
asked  Brigham,  when  they  were  alone.  "This  is  not 
like  you." 

308 


THE       AWAKENING 


Brand  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow  as  he  said: 
"The  presence  of  these  soldiers  is  a  constant  insult. 
They  are  continually  running  after  our  women,  and  I 
fear  their  presence  will  breed  no  end  of  mischief." 

"Have  patience  a  little,"  Brigham  responded.  "The 
time  is  coming  when  not  a  single  soldier  will  be  toler- 
ated in  this  valley.  This  detachment  will  leave 
shortly,  and  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  if  any  more 
come  they  will  be  stopped  on  the  borders.  But  now 
you  must  restrain  your  feelings.  We  are  not  ready 
yet  to  strike." 

When  returning  that  night  to  Maggie's  house  he  met 
Jock  Quibble,  who  spent  most  of  his  time  in  charge  of 
the  church  cattle,  but  VN^ho  had  been  hanging  about  the 
city  for  a  few  days.  His  manner  indicated  that  he 
had  something  to  say,  the  saying  of  which  gave  him 
vindictive  delight. 

"I  was  wondering.  Brother  Brand,  if  you  knew  that 
your  wife,  as  was,  took  picnic  trips  with  one  of  these 
soldier  chaps?"  he  said  with  a  sneer. 

In  an  instant  Brand  caught  him  by  the  throat. 

"Speak,  you  thundering  idiot,  or,  by  God,  your 
chance  will  be  gone  forever.  What  have  you  got  to 
tell  me?" 

"Let  go  and  I  will  tell  you,"  gasped  Quibble. 

Brand  released  his  hold,  and  Quibble  stammered: 
"  'Twas  a  week  ago,  I  was  up  the  canyon  after  cattle, 
and  there  I  see  your  wife  and  the  boy.  They  was  eat- 
in'  their  lunch,  and  one  of  them  soldier  chaps  was 
with  them.  His  horse  was  tied  down  below  and  he 
was  fetchin'  water  from  the  creek." 

"Is  that  all  you  know?"  Brand's  face  was  suffused. 
His  eyes  searched  the  countenance  of  his  informant. 

309 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Quibble  nodded.  With  an  oath  Brand  pushed  him 
away  and  walked  on  rapidly. 

He  went  straight  to  his  own  room,  took  two  pistols 
from  his  desk,  loaded  them  carefully,  slipped  them  in 
his  belt  under  his  coat  and  stepped  into  the  kitchen. 

'TU  not  be  back  to  supper  to-night,  Maggie,  and  I 
may  be  late;  don't  wait  for  me." 

As  he  walked  up  the  street  he  felt  that  his  blood 
was  singularly  cool.  There  was  no  danger  of  his  act- 
ing rashly.  He  was  going  to  Carissa,  and  he  would 
listen  to  what  she  had  to  say.  He  saw  her  mentally 
as  she  appeared  to  him  that  night  when  she  discarded 
him.  The  vision  of  her  beauty  was  in  his  eyes.  He 
heard  her  voice  saying,  "Don't,  please,  you  hurt  me." 

He  was  rudely  jostled  by  some  one  passing,  and 
turned  angrily.  It  was  Elder  Carson,  who  said: 
"What's  up.  Brother  Brand?     Anything  gone  wrong?" 

"No.  And  if  it  had,  it's  none  of  your  business," 
growled  Brand. 

"By  the  way,  is  that  young  officer,  Osborne,  living 
at  your  house?  I  saw  him  coming  out  rather  late  the 
other  night." 

"When  was  this?"  Brand  asked  sternly. 

"Oh,  a  few  weeks  ago.  But  it's  none  of  my  busi- 
ness, I  suppose,"  drawled  Carson  sarcastically. 

Brand  made  no  reply  but  passed  on.  The  wind  was 
blowing  strongly  from  the  direction  of  the  lake.  He 
was  conscious  of  a  disagreeable  taste  of  salt  on  his 
lips. 

When  he  reached  the  house,  he  found  that  the  even- 
ing meal  was  spread,  and  they  were  about  to  take 
their  places. 

"May  I  sit  down  with  you?"  he  asked. 

310 


THE       AWAKENING 

He  sought  to  make  his  tone  natural,  but  the  request 
sounded  strangely  to  himself  as  he  made  it. 

Carissa  immediately  turned  to  the  corner  cupboard 
to  reach  another  plate.  Brand  noticed  her  graceful 
movements,  her  new  appearance  of  health,  her  fresh 
color  and  elastic  step.  She  had  never  seemed  so 
desirable  to  him;  but  he  set  his  teeth  hard  as  he 
remembered  Quibble's  story.  As  she  returned  to  the 
table,  her  sleeve  brushed  against  his  arm.  A  sweet 
fragrance  from  the  past  seemed  wafted  toward  him. 
The  blood  quickened  in  his  veins,  he  felt  his  temples 
throbbing.  Mrs.  Brand  left  the  room  to  make  some 
additions  to  the  table. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her,  Carissa  stepped 
again  to  the  cupboard.  Brand  was  watching  her 
keenly.  Suddenly  he  sprang  forward  and  seized  her 
uplifted  arm.  Her  back  was  toward  him,  and  he 
roughly  pressed  her  head  down  on  his  shoulder. 
Before  she  could  realize  his  intention  or  make  a  move 
in  self-defence,  he  was  covering  her  face  with  passion- 
ate kisses.  She  sought  to  free  herself,  but  he  held 
her  fast. 

"Dearest,  I  love  you.  I  have  been  mad,  indeed,  but 
I  cannot  live  without  you,"  he  whispered  passionately. 

She  ceased  her  physical  struggles,  but  a  look  of  pain 
swept  over  her  face  and  she  closed  her  eyes. 

"Come  into  the  other  room,"  he  murmured. 

He  led  her  into  the  sitting-room,  placed  her  trem- 
bling form  in  the  great  chair  before  the  grate,  knelt 
by  her  side,  took  her  hands  in  his  and  kissed  them. 

She  unclosed  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him.  His  face 
was  strong,  there  were  fine  lines  in  it.  It  was  a  weak 
face,  too.     She   could    read    it    better   than   formerly. 

311 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Weak  along  the  lines  of  self-indulgence.  A  tremor  of 
fear  passed  over  her. 

"Why  did  you  come?"  she  asked  pathetically. 
"Was  it  kind  to  disturb  my  peace,  when  nothing  can 
be  changed?" 

"Carissa,  listen  to  me,"  cried  Brand  in  an  eager 
tone. 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  before  her,  a  masterful 
presence.  "I  have  been  growing  desperate  at  the 
thought  of  losing  you.  You  say  that  it  was  my  fault? 
Yes,  I  should  have  chosen  you  in  preference  to  my 
God.  I  see  it  now,  but  I  thought  you  would  become 
convinced.  I  have  always  loved  you.  My  love  for 
you  was  near  to  turn  me  from  my  faith." 

As  she  listened  a  flush  mounted  in  her  face.  She 
interrupted  him  with,  "You  speak  of  your  religion. 
It  is  not  a  religion  to  me.  It  is  a  horrible  system  of 
blasphemy.  True  religion  cannot  thrive  on  falsehood 
and  deceit  and  immorality.  When  I  think  of  that,  the 
love  you  seek  to  invoke  becomes  withered  and  black- 
ened and  shrivelled  as  with  hot  iron." 

Brand  shrank  from  the  intensity  of  her  bitterness. 
But  in  a  moment  he  asked,  and  as  he  spoke  he  felt  a 
revival  of  the  old  spirit  of  resentful  irritation. 

"Would  it  have  made  a  difference,  if  I  had  told  you 
of  this  revelation  when   I  first  heard  it  in  New  York?" 

"No;  not  if  you  had  there  allied  yourself  to  so 
monstrous  a  thing." 

"Would  you  have  married  me  if  you  had  known  in 
England  that  this  was  part  of  our  system  of  belief?" 

"No;  I  could  never  have  been  willing  even  to  listen 
to  you." 

"Then  under  the  circumstances  our  boy  must  have 

312 


THE       AWAKENING 

come  into  the  world  under  false  pretences.  How  does 
it  happen  that  you  can  still  love  him?"  said  Brand 
with  cruel  folly. 

"Why,  what  has  he  done,  the  darling?  He  is  inno- 
cent, he  has  not  deceived  me,  his  mind  is  untainted 
with  evil,  his  lips  are  free  from  lying,  and  please  God, 
my  life  shall  be  to  keep  him  true." 

A  terrible  shadow  crept  over  Brand's  face.  His 
voice  had  an  ugly  menacing  quality  as  he  asked:  "Do 
you  think  you  will  be  permitted  to  bring  him  up  in 
apostasy?     Be  careful,  or  you  and  he  will  part." 

It  was  like  a  stab  in  the  heart  to  Carissa,  but  she 
showed  a  brave  front.  Her  eyes  flashed  as  she  said: 
"You  dare  not.  I  bought  the  right  to  keep  him,  by 
my  obedience.     You  dare  not  take  him  from  me." 

"Pretty  obedience,  indeed!"  said  Brand  fiercely. 
"You  shut  yourself  away  from  me.  Is  that  obedience? 
If  I  chance  to  touch  you,  you  draw  back  and  say  that 
I  hurt  you.  Is  that  obedience?  You  receive  my  ene- 
mies, and  the  enemies  of  my  people  in  your  house  at 
night.  Is  that  obedience?  You  take  excursions  and 
picnic  parties  with  one  of  these  damned  strutting  sol- 
diers.    Is  that  obedience?     Answer  me!" 

"Eaton,  look  at  me,  please,  and  tell  me  do  you 
doubt  me.  Do  you  doubt  my  purity  or  my  loyalty? 
Do  you  believe  that  anything  has  come  between  us, 
save  this  wicked  belief  of  yours?" 

She  spoke  so  quietly,  so  softly,  with  such  ineffable 
dignity,  that  a  spasm  of  shame  went  through  Brand. 
But  he  answered  her  roughly: 

"That  is  all  very  well  to  say,  but  things  have  an  ugly 
look." 


313 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  scornful  indignation 
and  then  said  with  a  flash  of  outraged  pride: 

"Husband,  I  tell  you  this,  when  I  take  a  lover  I  will 
do  it  honestly,  for  love's  sake,  and  will  make  no  pre- 
tence that  God  has  told  me  to  do  it  for  His  sake.  And 
I  don't  think  you,  Eaton,  could  cast  a  single  stone 
at  me  without  proving  yourself  the  worst  kind  of 
coward." 

Brand  felt  the  thrust  and  his  face  went  pale.  He 
got  up  and  went  out  without  a  word. 


314 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

A    STOLEN    INTERVIEW 

There  was  a  new  military  road  being  surveyed 
through  Parley's  Park  to  the  Weber,  and  for  some 
weeks  Osborne  was  detailed  to  escort  the  surveying 
party. 

It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  December  that  he 
was  released  from  his  active  duties  and  permitted  to 
return  to  his  old  quarters  in  the  city.  Plis  first 
thought  was  to  call  upon  Carissa.  All  his  experi- 
ences, his  observations,  and  his  more  intimate 
knowledge  of  prevailing  conditions,  had  increased  his 
unwillingness  to  leave  her  behind  him,  when  he  took 
his  departure  in  the  spring. 

The  strangeness  of  the  situation  scarcely  occurred 
to  him.  She  no  longer  seemed  to  be  the  wife  of 
another  man,  and  under  his  legitimate  control  and 
protection.  If  he  had  put  his  thoughts  into  words  he 
would  have  said  that  a  plural  marriage  was  no  mar- 
riage. It  could  offer  no  protection.  It  was  in  itself 
an  insult  to  pure  womanhood.  That  the  act  of  taking 
a  second  wife  was  a  release  of  all  obligation  on  the 
part  of  the  first,  and  should  restore  to  her  her  liberty 
of  action  if  she  cared  to  exercise  it. 

He  pitied  Carissa  with  all  his  heart,  he  respected 
and  admired  her,  and  although  he  had  never  dreamed 
of  love,  still  he  had  never  before  been  so  strongly 
drawn  to  any  woman.  During  his  long  absence  she 
had  been  almost  continually  in  his  thoughts. 

315 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

He  did  not  wait  to  do  more  than  snatch  a  hasty 
lunch,  change  his  uniform,  and  leave  a  scribbled  note 
of  greeting  for  Maury,  before  he  started  for  the  Brand 
cottage. 

He  found  Carissa  seated  in  a  low  chair  on  the  ver- 
anda, looking  toward  the  mountains  in  the  distance. 
She  seemed  somewhat  agitated  on  his  appearance,  but 
she  smiled  brightly,  and  a  look  of  relief  came  over 
her  face.     Impulsively  she  extended  her  hand,  saying: 

"It  has  been  so  long  since  I  have  seen  you,  and  I 
could  not  hear  of  you." 

"I  was  assigned  to  duty  out  of  the  city,"  he 
explained.  "I  have  worried  about  you,  and  have 
fretted  over  the  necessity  of  being  away.  Is  there 
any  change?" 

A  vivid  blush  mantled  her  cheek,  her  eyes  that  had 
met  his  so  frankly  became  troubled;  she  hesitated  and 
then  said  slowly: 

"1  dare  not  invite  you  in.  I  have  not  dared  to  ask 
about  you.  Sometimes  I  feared  that  something  terri- 
ble had  happened.  No!  do  not  question  me.  Only 
to  see  you  has  been  an  intense  relief,  but — "  She 
paused,  and  then  said  in  a  low  voice:  "You  have 
enemies  here,  and  so  have  I.  We  must  not  be  seen 
together,  it  would  be  fatal.  You  must  go  now.  Your 
very  coming  here  is  dangerous." 

Osborne  was  a  bit  startled,  but  he  understood  per- 
fectly. He  glanced  around,  but  there  was  no  one  in 
sight. 

"Tell  me  what  has  happened,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"I  cannot,"  she  said.  "But,  believe  me,  I  do  not 
speak  idly.      It  is  too  terribly  true." 

The  voicing  of  her  apprehension  seemed  to  inten- 

316 


A     STOLEN     INTERVIEW 

sify  it.  "Please  do  not  stay,  we  must  say  good-bye. 
Now!  see  I  am  trembling  with  fear  for  you."  She 
arose  and  made  a  gesture  of  dismissal,  glancing  tim- 
idly in  the  direction  of  the  city. 

"Just  one  moment,"  he  pleaded.  "I  must  see  you 
again.  We  cannot  part  like  this!  Can  I  meet  you  in 
the  old  place  up  the  canyon?" 

"No!    No!    I  have  not  been  on  the  hills  for  weeks!" 

"It  must  be  here,  then,"  he  announced  decisively. 
"I  will  come  quietly  after  it  is  dark.  Do  not  shake 
your  head,  for  I  shall  certainly  come.  Do  you  think 
I  can  be  left  in  ignorance  of  what  concerns  you?  Or 
that  I  can  let  all  plans  for  your  welfare  drop  out  of 
my  thought?  I  will  go  now,  but  surely  you  can  trust 
me;  you  7mist  let  me  be  your  friend.  I  will  come 
to-night  and  you  must  tell  me  w^hat  to  do.  If  you  can 
see  me,  and  remember  I  shall  expect  it,  leave  your 
handkerchief  on  the  window  and  I  will  tap  just  once. 
There  is  so  much  to  be  said,  but — good-bye."  He 
turned  abruptly  away,  driven  by  her  look  of  fear. 

Instead  of  returning  directly  to  the  city  he  turned  to 
the  north,  climbed  the  Bench  and  made  his  way  by  a 
cattle  trail  through  the  sage-brush  to  the  canyon  road, 
and  thence  to  his  lodging.  He  encountered  no  one 
and  believed  that  his  visit  had  been  unobserved. 

That  night  as  he  went  out  on  the  street  he  saw  a 
crowd  of  soldiers  passing  into  one  of  the  grog-shops. 
They  were  already  drunk,  noisy  and  waking  the 
echoes  with  ribald  song.  Fraternizing  with  them 
were  a  number  of  Mormons,  who  had  so  far  forgotten 
the  Word  of  Wisdom  as  to  have  joined  in  the  profane 
revellings,   and   all   were   evidently  bent  on   a  night's 

carousal. 

317 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Osborne  was  in  the  act  of  passing  this  group,  when 
one  of  the  Mormons,  observing  him,  stepped  forward 
and  hailed  him. 

"See  here,"  he  called,  "I've  been  looking  for  you. 
Come  here  a  minute."  With  drunken  gravity  he 
insisted  upon  conducting  him  to  the  corner  of  the 
building. 

Osborne  was  about  to  break  away  and  send  the 
fellow  about  his  business,  when  a  name  fell  from  his 
lips  that  arrested  his  attention. 

He  said  impatiently,  "What  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"I've  got  something  to  say  about  Brother  Brand. 
It's  all  right  if  you  keep  out  of  his  w^ay,  but  he  knows 
about  your  canyon  trips  with  his  wife,  and  he's  bent 
on  makin'  this  place  unhealthy  for  you.     D'you  see?" 

"Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  know  about  this?" 
demanded  Osborne. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  never  you  mind.  He's  done 
me  a  dirty  trick,  and  I'd  like  to  see  you  hit  first,  and 
hit  hard,  that's  all.  There's  nothin'  queer  about  this. 
Can  you  give  me  a  bit  of  silver?" 

Osborne  gave  him  a  coin  and  passed  on.  He  would 
have  attached  little  or  no  importance  to  this  warning, 
but  that  it  fitted  in  so  perfectly  with  Carissa's  words. 
He  knew  so  well  the  violent  character  of  those  with 
whom  he  might  have  to  deal,  that  he  thought  it  well 
to  be  on  his  guard. 

He  began  to  realize  that  he  and  his  comrades  were 
in  the  midst  of  a  foreign  community,  which  was  at 
heart  hostile  and  fanatical,  unrestrained  in  its  passions, 
and  which  barely  covered  its  resentment  at  the  pres- 
ence of  United  States  troops  by  a  diplomatic  veneer  of 
courtesy.     But    it   would   be   unrelenting  in    its   ven- 

318 


A     STOLEN     INTERVIEW 


geance  if  it  were  assured  of  immunity.  Nevertheless 
he  did  not  turn  back,  but  under  cover  of  the  darkness 
retraced  his  route  of  the  afternoon,  and  was  soon 
standing  under  the  window  of  Carissa's  sitting-room. 

There  was  no  light  within,  except  that  of  the  fire 
which  dimly  illuminated  the  interior.  He  looked  for 
the  handkerchief,  but  it  was  not  there.  Should  he 
take  the  chance  and  tap  upon  the  window?  It  sud- 
denly occurred  to  him  that  Brand  might  be  with  her. 
A  fierce  wave  of  unreasoning  anger  passed  over  him. 
What  right  had  this  man  to  visit  the  woman  whose 
love  he  had  so  grossly  outraged?  He  recalled  the 
flush  on  her  cheek  and  the  look  of  trouble  in  her  eyes. 
Could  it  be  that  she  had  submitted  to  receive  him  after 
all?  That  would  be  impossible.  He  remembered  her 
previous  declarations,  and  was  assured,  and  yet  he 
resisted  the  impulse  to  call  her  to  the  window. 

"I  will  let  her  know  I  have  been  here,  and  that  I 
will  call  again,"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  tore  a  fragment  from  an  envelope,  wrote  on  it 
the  words  "to-morrow  night,"  guiding  his  pencil  by 
the  sense  of  feeling  rather  than  sight,  and  tucked  it 
securely  under  the  frame  of  the  window. 

Instead  of  returning  to  the  city  he  struck  out  for  the 
hills.  The  wind  was  blowing  sharply  from  the  east, 
there  was  more  than  a  touch  of  frost  in  its  biting 
caress,  but  the  tingling  sensation  was  agreeable  to 
him,  and  he  only  buttoned  his  coat  more  closely  about 
him  and  walked  on  briskly. 

It  was  three  or  four  months  before  the  detachment 
would  leave  the  valley,  but  the  time  would  come,  and 
he  would  hold  the  colonel  to  his  promise.  There 
would    doubtless    be    diflficulties,    but   he   would  over- 

319 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

come  them.  From  San  Francisco  they  would  take 
ship  for  New  York.  On  the  long  voyage  it  would  be 
his  task  to  beguile  Carissa  into  forgetfulness  of  her 
sorrows.  He  pictured  the  welcome  that  she  would 
receive  at  the  hands  of  his  mother  and  sister,  and  with 
what  tender  sympathy  they  would  listen  to  her  story. 
Beyond  this  the  vision  was  not  so  clear,  but  his  heart 
was  warm  and  glowing,  in  spite  of  the  increasing  cold 
of  the  night,  as  he  gave  free  rein  to  his  fancy. 

Finally  he  turned  and  looked  back.  The  sky  was 
overcast  with  clouds,  the  valley  was  wrapped  in 
shadow  and  yet  the  night  was  not  impenetrable.  His 
eyes,  accustomed  to  the  gloom,  could  distinguish  his 
path  for  a  short  distance  before  him,  and  far  down 
below  there  twinkled  a  few  feeble  lights  that  marked 
the  location  of  the  city.  In  one  spot  a  larger  dot  of 
light  blurred  by  the  wind  indicated  a  camp-fire, 
probably  in  the  neighborhood  of  one  of  the  corrals. 
He  began  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  the  warning  that 
he  had  received  recurred  to  him. 

"I  don't  think  there's  much  in  it,"  he  thought. 
"And  yet  it  will  be  as  well  to  be  on  my  guard." 

"Where  have  you  been?"  inquired  Maury,  as 
Osborne  entered  the  room. 

"Oh,  I've  been  strolling  over  the  hills." 

Maury  looked  at  him  curiously  in  silence  for  some 
moments,  then  he  said:  "I  suppose  it's  none  of  my 
business,  but  it  begins  to  look  to  me  as  if  you  were 
bitten  somehow.  You'd  better  be  careful.  There's 
too  much  theology  in  this  valley  to  indulge  your  fancy 
with  safety.  You  ought  to  know  enough  to  take  your 
own  advice  to  Ingalls." 

"Look  here,  Maury,  I  want  to  ask  you  something. 

320 


A    STOLEN    INTERVIEW 

And  I  want  a  serious  answer,"  said  Osborne,  in  a 
grave  tone. 

Maury  threw  himself  astride  a  chair,  and  leaned  his 
chin  upon  the  back  as  he  replied,  "All  right,  fire 
away,  old  man." 

"If  you  had  a  sister  who  was  entrapped  into  this 
den  of  horrors,  who  married  a  man  in  good  faith, 
because  she  believed  him  to  be  honorable  and  worthy 
of  her  love,  but  who  discovered  too  late  that  he  had 
an  unlimited  capacity  for  women,  and  in  spite  of  her 
heartbroken  protests  compelled  her  to  be  a  partner  in 
his  polygamical  schemes,  what  would  you  do?" 

"I  should  shoot  him  dead  certain,  and  then  get  shot 
myself  in  trying  to  take  her  away,"  replied  Maury, 
promptly.  "But  look  here,  old  fellow,  she's  not  your 
sister,  and  you're  running  a  devilish  risk." 

"No,  she's  not  my  sister,  but  she's  a  good  woman  in 
distress,"  said  Osborne  naively. 

Maury  laughed  heartily.  "My  dear  boy,"  he  said 
dryly,  "if  you  set  yourself  the  task  of  liberating  every 
woman  in  this  region  who  is  suffering  from  heart-ache, 
you'll  need  to  call  on  Uncle  Sam  to  get  you  out  of  this 
valley  alive.  Though  it  does  beat  me  how  so  many  of 
the  women  stick  up  for  the  system." 

Osborne  pondered  a  moment,  and  then  said:  "I'm 
going  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"You  might  as  well,"  said  Maury.     "I'm  safe." 

The  story  was  a  rather  long  one  in  the  telling,  and 
at  its  conclusion  Osborne  said:  "I'm  going  ahead 
with  this  thing  in  spite  of  fate,  and  I  may  need  help. 
Will  you  stand  by  me?" 

Maury  refilled  and  lighted  his  pipe  before  replying, 
and  then   said  meditatively,  as  though  weighing  the 

321 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

chances,  "Every  time,  for  the  matter  of  that,  you  bet. 
Still,  old  man,  it's  a  serious  thing  to  interfere  in  the 
domestic  concerns  of  others.  I  don't  recall  ever  being 
asked  before  to  help  to  carry  off  another  man's  wife. 
And  it  seems  that  the  other  fellow  has  gained  some 
inkling  of  your  interest  in  the  lady,  and  considers  it 
intrusive.  It's  a  jolly  situation.  There'll  be  fun  in  it, 
I'm  thinking." 

It  was  glorious  starlight  the  following  night,  when 
Osborne  made  his  way  over  the  fields  to  his  antici- 
pated interview  with  Carissa.  The  air  was  still  and 
cold,  a  slight  sound,  as  of  the  crackling  of  a  twig, 
could  be  heard  a  long  distance.  The  night  was  not 
favorable  for  concealment,  if  any  one  should  chance 
to  be  about.  He  knew  the  suspicion  that  would  attach 
to  Carissa  in  the  event  of  discovery,  and  yet  he  felt 
that  he  must  see  her.  He  was  eager  to  be  in  her  pres- 
ence, to  hear  her  voice,  to  look  upon  her  face,  perhaps 
to  touch  her  hand.  He  believed  that  he  was  incapa- 
ble of  bringing  trouble  upon  her,  through  selfish  con- 
siderations; although  for  the  chance  of  being  near  her 
he  was  evidently  willing  not  only  to  dare  any  personal 
peril,  but  also  to  expose  her  to  some  risk.  But  then, 
when  was  a  man's  love  utterly  unselfish? 

The  house  stood  on  what  was  known  as  the  North 
Bench,  and  faced  the  south,  and  at  the  back  there  was 
a  young  grove  of  pear  trees.  The  house  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  well-kept  lawn,  broken  here  and  there 
by  dwarf  shrubbery. 

As  Osborne  entered  the  grove  he  suddenly  saw  a 
dark  figure  moving  about  in  the  shadow,  but  clearly 
silhouetted  against  the  starlit  clearing.  It  was  Carissa. 
As  he  advanced  toward  her,  she  came  to  meet  him. 

322 


A    STOLEN     INTERVIEW 

"I  was  afraid  that  you  would  be  rash  enough  to 
come,"  she  said,  with  gentle  reproach.  "It  has  made 
me  suffer  agonies  of  fear." 

"I  had  to  see  you,"  he  said  simply,  as  he  took  her 
hand  and  would  have  kissed  it;  but  she  withdrew  it. 

She  stood  with  clasped  hands  and  bended  head,  as 
she  said,  in  a  low  voice:  "I  have  done  what  I  said  I 
could  not  do.     I  have  received  my  husband  again!" 

Osborne  made  an  exclamation  of  incredulity. 

"I  can  scarcely  believe  it  myself,"  she  went  on, 
wearily.  How  pitifully  white  and  cold  her  face  looked, 
as  she  continued  in  drooping  tones:  "There  was  a 
time  when  I  could  resist,  but  he  has  taught  me  to  fear 
him.  I  did  not  know  that  he  could  be  so  hard  and 
cruel." 

"My  God!  Is  he  hard  with  you?  You  who  have 
given  him  all  your  life,  and  are  so  worthy  of  all  love 
and  tenderness?"  cried  Osborne,  with  great  rage.  He 
felt  in  some  odd  way  that  Brand  was  doing  him  a 
personal  injury. 

"It  is  this  heartless  system  that  has  changed  him.  I 
knew  him  when  he  was  not  like  that." 

Osborne  winced  at  the  words.  He  was  impatient 
with  her  for  urging  this  defence,  for  a  great  love  and 
longing  possessed  him  to  take  her  away  from  all  this 
that  was  crushing  out  the  joy  of  her  life. 

She  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"But  there  is  something  else,  and  you  must  know  it, 
for  it  concerns  you.  He  has  learned  of  our  former 
meetings.  You  know  their  character  even  as  I  do. 
But  his  mind  is  poisoned,  and  he  has  put  the  most  ter- 
rible construction  upon  them."  She  paused  as  though 
the  words  choked   her,    and   then  proceeded,  breath- 

323 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

lessly,  "He  has  made  terrible  threats.  He  has  sworn 
that  if  you  ever  speak  to  me  again  he  will  shoot  you 
like  a  dog.  At  first  I  met  him  bravely,  and  I  silenced 
him,  but  since  then  I  know  that  he  has  indulged  in 
horrible  suspicions.  You  must  promise  to  stay  away 
and  to  avoid  him,  or  my  anxiety  will  be  more  than  I 
can  bear." 

Osborne  hesitated,  but  he  saw  how  intense  was  her 
alarm. 

'Yes,  I  will,  for  your  sake,"  he  said  at  length. 
"That  is,  I  will,  if  you  will  promise  me  that  when  we 
leave  in  the  spring,  you  will  let  me  take  you  away 
from  this  hole?" 

"Ah,  for  my  boy's  sake  how  gladly  would  I  leave 
here!  But  that  seems  so  impossible.  There  is  no 
way  out,"  said  Carissa,  with  infinite  sadness. 

'Yes,  there  is  a  way,"  Osborne  said,  hopefully.  "The 
colonel  has  promised  to  help  me.  It  is  terrible  to 
have  to  wait  till  the  spring,  but  the  canyons  are  already 
blocked  with  snow.  Keep  brave,  keep  well.  I'll  get 
you  out  of  this,  cost  what  it  may." 

"Do  you  really  mean  it?  Is  it  possible  to  succeed?" 
gasped  Carissa,  eagerly,  her  hope  kindling  at  the  con- 
fidence in  his  tone. 

"As  true  as  there's  a  God  in  Heaven!  Yes,  if  it 
costs  my  life!"  answered  Osborne,  in  a  deep,  passionate 
voice. 

"Oh,  my  friend,  oh!  oh!"  cried  Carissa,  convul- 
sively. She  seized  his  arm  with  her  two  hands,  bowed 
her  head  upon  her  hands  and  wept  pitifully. 

Nor  were  the  man's  eyes  dry.  He  touched  her  head 
gently  and  murmured,  "My  poor  girl!    My  poor  girl!" 

324 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

CHRISTMAS   DOINGS 

It  was  Christmas  morning,  1854.  To  Carissa  there 
came  a  momentary  beguilement  of  sorrow  as  she  wit- 
nessed Moroni's  delight  at  the  simple  little  gifts  she 
had  prepared  for  him.  Back  and  forth  across  the  floor 
he  ran,  bringing  each  new  treasure  for  her  inspection, 
and  satisfied  only  when  he  thought  she  shared  his  hap- 
piness. Was  it  strange  that  the  associations  of  this 
day  made  her  position  seem  doubly  hard  to  bear? 

'It  would  be  difficult  to  analyze  her  thought.  Grief 
struggled  with  outraged  pride  and  wounded  love.  She 
knew  herself  to  be  worse  than  widowed.  She  had 
given  unreservedly  all  the  wealth  of  her  love  and 
simple  trust;  but  it  had  not  been  enough!  She  felt 
that  she  was  cheapened  in  her  own  sight,  and  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  Her  only  refuge  had  been  to 
repudiate  any  share  in  the  transaction,  and  to  with- 
hold herself  absolutely  from  the  man  who  had  so 
foully  depreciated  her  worth.  But  she  had  been 
dragged  from  this  refuge.  As  she  remembered  the 
night  when  he  returned  to  her  and  claimed  a  right 
that  she  denied,  and  of  times  since  then  when  he  had 
demanded  of  her  the  satisfaction  of  his  passionate 
desires,  she  shuddered  and  pitied  herself  as  one  who 
had  sold  honor  for  a  price.  True,  the  price  had  been 
permission  to  live  with  her  boy,  but  the  result  was  that 
she  felt  herself  to  be  an  associate  in  a  gross  and  vulgar 

325 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

crime.  Brand  had  covered  his  sin  against  her  with 
the  cloak  of  his  religion,  but  it  only  served  to  make 
"his  religion"  more  horrible  and  sickening  to  her. 

She  was  worse  than  widowed  indeed.  The  man 
whom  she  had  loved,  and  loved  so  truly  that  the 
memory  of  it  gave  her  pain,  had  become  her  worst 
enemy. 

Such  thoughts  were  dark,  indeed,  against  the  back- 
ground of  this  day's  bright  traditions.  As  she  watched 
Moroni  at  his  play  and  patiently  smiled  in  response 
to  his  appeals,  she  was  struggling  with  a  harassing 
thought. 

She  wondered  if  his  father  would  remember  the  day 
and  bring  gifts.  And  a  prayer,  prompted  by  bitter- 
ness, went  up  from  her  heart,  "O  God,  spare  us  the 
pain  of  such  mockery!" 

Brand  did  not  remember  the  day.  The  past  week 
he  had  spent  with  Maggie.  She  took  things  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  acquiesced  in  the  necessary 
irregularities  of  a  polygamous  household  with  perfect 
equanimity.  Brand's  resentment  toward  Carissa  had 
resumed  its  sway,  and  was  becoming  dominant.  His 
indulgence  in  cruelty  was  making  him  cruel.  She 
humiliated  him  more  by  her  way  of  submission  than 
by  her  resistance.  He  knew  that  it  was  enforced. 
He  had  battered  at  her  prejudices  and  had  broken 
through  them  by  violence,  but  had  not  bent  them, 
and  he  now  realized  that  in  defeat  she  had  drawn  her- 
self away  from  him  and  was  the  real  victor. 

A  sinister  thought  had  been  present  with  him  for 
weeks.  He  had  held  it  in  check,  but  he  was  now 
beginning  to  give  it  free  rein. 

"It  is  not  her  prejudice  alone  that  is  standing  in  my 

326 


CHRISTMAS      DOINGS 

way  and   ruining   my  happiness.     There  is  some  other 
influence  at  work." 

He  felt  an  ungovernable  hatred  when  he  thought  of 
Osborne. 

"He  has  called  on  her  twice  that  I  know  of.  He 
met  her  on  her  rambles.  It's  devilish  strange  if  she's 
so  innocent." 

In  the  meanwhile  he  took  an  indirect  revenge  by 
cultivating  a  deadly  hatred  of  the  soldiers.  While 
Brigham  and  his  counsellors  were  astutely  showing 
their  "military  guests"  every  attention  possible,  by 
means  of  public  functions  and  social  festivities,  Brand 
was  driven  by  his  jealousy  to  create  a  hostile  party, 
ready  to  manifest  its  antagonism  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. 

On  the  afternoon  of  this  Christmas  day  the  numer- 
ous grog-shops  of  the  city  were  thronged  with  soldiers, 
traders,  Indians,  and  mountain  men.  There  were 
many  INIormons  among  them.  Church,  as  well  as  mil- 
itary discipline,  had  been  greatly  relaxed  during  the 
past  months.  There  were  some  disturbances  during 
the  day.  Tongues  unloosed  by  liquor  uttered  insults, 
and  insults  were  hurled  back  in  reply. 

Word  was  presently  brought  to  the  officers  that 
there  was  every  prospect  of  there  being  a  serious 
fight,  unless  the  soldiers  were  looked  after.  Osborne, 
therefore,  went  down  to  the  chief  saloon,  kept  by  a 
Saint  in  good  standing,  to  give  instructions  to  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard. 

On  his  way  he  overtook  and  passed  Brand,  without 
stopping  to  wish  him  more  than  a  formal  good-day. 
Brand  had  been  drinking.  Originally  of  very  temper- 
ate habits,  he  had   nevertheless  during   the  past  few 

327 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

weeks  been  drinking  to  excess.  He  did  not  drink  for 
conviviality.  He  drank  alone,  and  grew  more  taciturn 
the  more  he  drank.  He  laid  it  all  at  Carissa's 
door. 

As  he  saw  Osborne  go  by,  something  gripped  at  his 
heart.  There  was  the  man  that  he  hated.  Everything 
that  he  had  suffered,  all  that  he  had  lost  came  before 
him.  He  knew  nothing  of  Osborne's  recent  interviews 
with  his  wife,  but  it  flashed  over  him  that  somehow 
everything  would  be  simpler  with  this  man  out  of  the 
way.      He  turned  and  followed  him  into  the  saloon. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  in  the  doorway  and  looked 
upon  the  scene.  Saints  and  soldiers  were  standing  at 
the  bar,  or  gambling  at  the  little  tables.  There  was 
much  loud  talking.  Oaths,  jests,  and  laughter  passed 
from  one  to  the  other.  His  eyes  wandered  from  group 
to  group  until  they  rested  upon  Osborne,  who  had 
started  to  return. 

Every  evil  passion  came  to  the  surface  in  Brand's 
consciousness.  He  fixed  his  gaze  upon  the  face  of  the 
man  he  hated.  Everything  else  in  the  room  became 
shadowy  and  indistinct.  He  reached  for  his  pistol, 
slowly  cocked  it,  took  aim  and  fired. 

The  act  was  but  the  mechanical  performance  of  a 
deed  long  perpetrated  in  thought.  The  report  startled 
him,  and  yet  he  was  glad  it  was  done.  But  why  did 
not  his  enemy  fall? 

He  saw  Osborne  still  advancing,  the  look  unchanged 
upon  his  face.  He  was  not  aware  that  his  arm  had 
been  knocked  up  while  his  finger  was  on  the  trigger. 
Suddenly  a  heavy  blow  fell  upon  him  from  behind. 

"You  cowardly  assassin,"  cried  Maury,  who  had 
entered  just  in  time  to  be  of  service  to  his  friend. 

328 


CHRISTMAS      DOINGS 

Immediately  there  was  a  rush.  The  half-intoxicated 
soldiers,  thinking  the  shot  was  the  signal  for  a  general 
massacre,  fought  their  way  fiercely  to  the  door. 
Neither  they  nor  the  Mormons  knew  the  cause  of  the 
disturbance,  but  both  parties  desired  to  reach  the 
open.  Maury  was  borne  backward  by  the  rush,  while 
Osborne  was  carried  to  the  street  in  the  midst  of  a 
struggling,  fighting  mob.  A  few  shots  were  exchanged, 
and  a  couple  of  soldiers  and  several  Mormons  were 
wounded. 

As  soon  as  Maury  could  extricate  himself,  he  gave  a 
few  sharp  orders  and  the  soldiers  fell  into  line.  A 
crowd  of  excited  men  with  arms  in  their  hands  was 
gathering.  Someone  spread  the  report  that  the  sol- 
diers had  fired  on  the  citizens,  and  the  number  of  the 
wounded  and  the  fierce  look  upon  the  faces  of  the 
soldiers  seemed  to  lend  confirmation  to  the  tale.  A 
call  was  sent  for  the  Mormon  legion,  and  threats  of 
extermination  were  freely  uttered. 

At  length  ]\Iaury  and  Osborne  succeeded  in  getting 
the  soldiers  back  to  their  quarters,  where  they  were  kept 
under  arms  pending  an  adjustment.  At  sundown  there 
were  two  hostile  camps  within  striking  distance  of 
each  other  in  the  city,  both  sides  eager  to  avenge 
insults  and  wrongs,  and  preparing  for  battle  on  the 
morrow. 

The  immediate  cause  of  the  strife  seemed  to  be 
known  only  to  the  three  chief  actors,  who  made  no 
report  to  their  superiors  on  this  point. 

"We  cannot  drag  her  name  into  the  affair,"  said 
Osborne,  and  Maury  assented. 

"I  tell  you,  old  man,  I  thought  it  was  all  over  with 
me.     His  pistol   was   held   straight  and  his  hand  was 

329 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


without    a   tremor.     I    shan't   forget    it,    Maury,    in   a 
hurry,"  said  Osborne,  gripping  his  savior's  hand. 

"A  pretty  close  shave.  He's  dangerous;  but  if  he 
isn't  killed,  he'll  be  laid  up  for  a  time.  He  must  be 
pretty  badly  bruised  with  all  that  crowd  passing  over 
him;  and  I  didn't  tap  him  lightly  over  the  ear  either," 
responded  Maury,  glancing  ruefully  at  his  swollen 
left  hand. 

When  Colonel  Steptoe  arrived  he  asked  many  sharp 
questions. 

"It  started  in  a  saloon  row,"  said  Maury.  "There's 
not  much  love  lost  between  the  troops  and  the  citizens 
at  the  best,  and  bad  liquor  mixed  with  bad  blood  will 
cause  a  fight  anywhere." 

Contrary  to  ^Maury's  anticipation.  Brand  was  not 
seriously  hurt;  the  blow  that  he  received  stunned  him, 
but  he  fell  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  doorway,  and  was 
only  slightly  injured  by  the  rushing  mob.  He  was 
partly  conscious  of  what  was  going  on,  but  was 
unable  to  rise.  The  disturbance  was  still  at  its  height 
outside,  when  he  succeeded  in  getting  to  his  feet,  and 
making  his  way  to  the  deserted  bar,  he  helped  himself 
to  a  glass  of  whiskey.  The  stimulant  braced  him,  but 
still  he  felt  dazed.  He  sat  down  upon  a  chair  and 
looked  at  his  soiled  clothes,  and  then  at  his  bruised 
and  bloody  hand. 

"Some  brute  has  crushed  his  heel  upon  it,"  he 
thought. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  Osborne.  He  heard  a 
pistol  shot  and  fierce  cries  from  a  little  farther  down 
the  street. 

"I  failed  this  time,"  he  said  aloud,  "but  he'll  not 
leave  this  valley  alive."     He  listened   a  moment;  the 

330 


CHRISTMAS     DOINGS 


sound  of  shouting  had  died  away  in  the  direction  of 
the  soldiers'  quarters.  He  took  out  his  handkerchief 
and  clumsily  bandaged  his  wounded  hand,  then  he 
brushed  the  dirt  from  his  clothes  as  well  as  possible, 
picked  up  his  hat  from  the  floor,  and  stepped  into  the 
street.  There  was  no  one  in  sight,  the  city  seemed  to 
have  been  suddenly  deserted. 

"I'll  go  to  Maggie  and  let  her  doctor  my  hand,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "She's  clever  at  such  things,  and 
won't  be  over-curious." 

Slowly  he  passed  along  the  street.  He  found  him- 
self more  shaken  than  he  thought.  Maggie  was  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  shading  her  face  with  her  hand. 
When  Brand  approached  her  she  hurried  toward 
him. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  in  alarm.  "Are  you  hurt?" 
She  glanced  toward  the  city  with  a  fierce  look  upon 
her  face. 

"Never  mind,  girl.  I'll  be  all  right;  a  drunken  sol- 
dier attacked  me,  and  there  was  a  fight,  but  all  I  need 
is  a  little  nursing.  Can  you  get  some  water  to  bathe 
this  thing?"  and  he  unwrapped  the  handkerchief  and 
showed  the  livid  bruise. 

That  night,  after  all  was  quiet  in  the  city  and  in  the 
barracks,  Osborne,  who  was  being  relieved  of  his 
guard  by  Maury,  said  to  him: 

"I'm  going  up  on  the  hill.  She  must  have  heard 
the  tumult,  and  may  be  a  bit  nervous.  I'll  be  back 
before  the  moon  rises." 

"Look  here,  old  fellow,  hadn't  you  better  drop  it? 
That  brute  has  spotted  you,  and  next  time  I  may  not  be 
on  hand,  you  know.  Besides,  I  guess  he  is  not  want- 
ing in  hirelings,"  said  Maury,  earnestly. 

331 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Osborne  turned  upon  him  squarely,  almost  fiercely, 
and  said: 

"You  might  as  well  know  that  I'm  into  this  affair 
for  all  I'm  worth.  She  has  my  pledge,  and  I'll 
never  leave  this  place  unless  she  goes  with  me.  If  I 
went  back  on  that  poor  girl  now,  I  should  have  to 
curse  you  to  the  end  of  the  chapter  for  saving  my 
life." 

Osborne  went  straight  to  the  house.  The  night  was 
dark,  but  he  knew  the  way  perfectly,  and  his  eyes 
soon  became  accustomed  to  the  gloom.  As  he 
approached  the  window  his  pulse  gav^e  a  sudden  throb; 
something  white  was  lying  upon  the  ledge.  He  lifted 
it  to  his  face,  it  was  Carissa's  handkerchief.  He  gave 
a  quick  soft  tap  upon  the  window.  Almost  immedi- 
ately it  was  opened. 

"I  heard  the  firing  and  have  been  so  anxious.  I 
hoped  that  you  would  come,"  said  Carissa,  who  was 
evidently  a  little  unstrung. 

"It  was  nothing.  A  row  between  some  drunken  sol- 
diers and  townsmen,"  he  said.  "It's  all  over  now, 
and  everything  has  quieted  down.  I  thought  that  you 
might  wonder.     It  is  so  good  of  you  to  see  me." 

"I  know  it  is  imprudent,"  she  said,  "but  everything 
alarms  me.  I  keep  thinking  that  something  will  hap- 
pen to  make  flight  impossible." 

Osborne  wondered  what  she  would  say  if  she  knew 
the  full  truth  of  the  afternoon's  doings. 

"No,  nothing  shall  prevent  that,  except  death.  Now 
I  know  you  are  all  right  I  won't  stay.  See,  the  moon 
is  rising.  But  may  I  write  to  you,  and  will  you 
answer?  That  crooked  tree  where  we  stood  the  other 
night  can  be  our  post-box.    One  of  its  limbs  is  twisted 

332 


CHRISTMAS      DOIXGS 

almost  double.  I  must  know  that  1  can  hear  from 
you.     I  will  come  only  when  it  is  dark." 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  replied:  "Yes,  I 
will  do  it,  but  oh!  be  careful." 

As  Osborne  returned  to  the  camp  he  felt  a  strange 
elation.  He  asked  himself  why,  but  the  only  answer 
he  could  reach  was  that  Carissa  seemed  now  to  want 
to  live. 


333 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

QUIBBLE'S    DIPLOMACY 

It  was  not  long  before  even  Brigham  and  his  coun- 
sellors began  to  weary  of  their  guests.  Their  policy 
had  thus  far  proved  successful.  A  petition  to  Presi- 
dent Pierce,  requesting  the  reappointment  of  Governor 
Young,  had  been  signed  by  Judge  Kinney,  Colonel 
Steptoe,  and  forty-one  other  representatives  of  the 
judiciary  and  military,  as  well  as  the  merchants  doing 
business  in  the  city.  This  petition  set  forth  that 
"Governor  Brigham  Young  possesses  the  entire  con- 
fidence of  the  people  of  this  territory  without  dis- 
tinction of  party  or  sect,"  that  he  is  "a  firm  supporter 
of  the  Constitution  and  laws  of  the  United  States  and 
a  tried  pillar  of  Republican  institutions,"  and  enumer- 
ated many  other  reasons  for  considering  him  a? 
"decidedly  the  most  suitable  person  that  can  be 
selected  for  that  office." 

As  soon  as  this  petition  was  granted  and  Brigham 
felt  himself  secure  in  his  position  as  governor,  he 
began  to  modify  his  attitude.  He  was  willing  once 
more  to  listen  to  Brand,  Carson,  and  others  who 
brought  lurid  accounts  of  the  licentious  doings  of  the 
soldiers,  and  who  made  specific  charges  against  the 
officers  of  debauchery  and  seduction.  About  the  mid- 
dle of  February,  Counsellors  Grant  and  Kimball 
publicly  denounced  these  doings  at  a  meeting  in  the 
tabernacle,  and  on  the  following  Sunday  Brigham 
gave  unqualified  endorsement  to  their  position.     The 

334 


QUIBBLE'S     DIPLOMACY 

trial  of  several  Indians  of  the  Parvante  tribe,  for  the 
murder  of  Captain  Gunnison,  did  much  to  increase  the 
mutual  feeling  of  antagonism  that  was  rapidly 
developing. 

From  various  sources  it  was  ascertained  that  Lieu- 
tenant Gunnison,  recently  raised  to  the  rank  of  cap- 
tain of  United  States  topographical  engineers,  was 
foully  murdered  on  the  Sevier  River,  in  Utah  Territory, 
in  the  fall  of  1853,  with  eight  others,  one  of  whom 
was  a  Mormon. 

The  matter  was  investigated  by  Judge  Kinney  and 
later  by  Judge  Drummond.  The  evidence  marked  the 
crime  as  a  peculiarly  atrocious  one,  and  implicated 
several  Mormons,  also  Eneis,  a  favorite  warrior  of 
Brigham,  said  to  be  his  property  and  acting  under  his 
orders,  as  well  as  about  twenty-five  members  of  the 
Parvante  tribe. 

Indian  witnesses  testified  that  only  four  shots  were 
fired  by  the  Indians,  all  the  rest  being  fired  by  Mor- 
mons, and  that  in  crossing  the  river  to  scalp  and  muti- 
late the  bodies  of  the  men,  they  received  positive 
instruction  from  their  Mormon  allies  to  save  if  possi- 
ble the  Mormon  who  fell  in  the  fight,  and  who  might 
be  distinguished  from  the  Americans  by  certain 
peculiar  marks  on  the  garment  which  he  wore  next  to 
his  body.  Judge  Drummond  declared  that  "the  evi- 
dence against  Eneis  was  clear  and  conclusive,  and  no 
rebutting  evidence,"  and  that  it  was  clearly  proved 
that  "Eneis  cut  Captain  Gunnison's  body  open,  and 
cook  out  his  heart  while  he  was  yet  alive  and  the  heart 
so  full  of  blood  that  it  bounded  on  the  ground  after 
being  taken  out;  and  was  not  content  with  this  but  cut 
out  his  tongue,   and  otherwise  cut  and  mangled  the 

335 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

body."  In  spite  of  all  this  evidence,  and  in  spite  of 
the  clear  and  forceful  charges  of  the  judges,  each  Mor- 
mon jury  before  whom  the  case  was  tried,  brought  in  a 
verdict  of  not  guilty,  as  against  the  white  men  impli- 
cated and  the  able-bodied  warriors;  and  the  jury  of 
Judge  Kinney's  court  brought  in  a  verdict  of  man- 
slaughter against  "three  old,  crippled  and  half-blind 
Indians,  who  were  sentenced  to  three  years'  imprison- 
ment, but  who  were  soon  permitted  to  escape." 

Judge  Kinney  was  so  mortified  by  this  fearful  mis- 
carriage of  justice,  that  he  immediately  adjourned  the 
court  and  declared  that  there  was  false  dealing  some- 
where. 

"In  fact,"  said  Judge  Drummond,  "not  only  he,  but 
Colonel  Steptoe,  General  Holman,  the  government 
attorney,  Hon.  Garland  Hurt,  the  Indian  agent  of  the 
Territory,  Captain  James  B.  Leach,  the  mail  con- 
tractor between  San  Diego  and  Salt  Lake  City,  and 
Columbus  L.  Craig,  all  of  whom  were  cognizant  of  the 
influences  brought  to  bear  upon  the  trial,  arrived  irre- 
sistibly at  the  conclusion  that  the  Indians  were  found 
not  guilty  by  order  of  the  'church,'  and  that  Dimick 
B.  Huntington,  an  Indian  interpreter  and  spiritual 
brother-in-law  of  Gov.  Brigham  Young,  was  the  man 
who  bore  the  decree  and  order  of  the  'church'  to  the 
jury,  who  implicitly  found  the  verdicts  according  to 
the  mandates  of  the  'church';  as  is  now  the  universal 
rule  and  order  of  jury  trials  in  the  peaceful  valley  of 
the  mountains." 

Captain  Ingalls,  Lieutenant  Maury  and  Osborne 
were  discussing  the  matter  on  the  evening  of  the  trial. 

"Such  proceedings  ought  to  damn  any  organization 
to  the  lowest  hell!"  exclaimed  Ingalls.    "If  the  church 

336 


QUIBBLE'S      DIPLOMACY 

could  acquit  itself  of  complicity  with  that  fiendish 
murder,  yet  it  must  stand  guilty  for  all  time  of  stretch- 
ing forth  its  hand  to  protect  and  shield  the  murderers." 

"You  forget  that  Captain  Gunnison  was  so  impious 
as  to  lift  his  voice  against  the  anointed  of  the  Lord, 
and  that  it  was  the  vengeance  of  the  Most  High  that 
overtook  him,"  said  iMaury,  with  bitter  mockery. 

"But  how  had  Captain  Gunnison  offended  them  so 
fatally?"  asked  Ingalls.  "Did  he  pay  attention  to 
their  women  and  show  common  politeness  to  their 
girls?" 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  that."  replied  Maury.  "He  wrote  a 
book  in  which  he  handled  the  Mormon  question  with 
very  light  gloves  on.  He  spoke  kindly  of  the  people, 
it  is  true,  and  pointed  out  the  folly  of  a  policy  of  per- 
secution, as  tending  to  make  them  stronger  in  the 
faith;  but  he  drove  his  pen  mercilessly  to  the  very 
vitals  of  this  precious  system;  he  dared  to  attack  the 
doctrine  of  polygamy,  and  made  a  plea  to  young  Utah 
to  arise  and  assert  its  manhood." 

"It  is  a  fearful  thing,"  exclaimed  Osborne,  "that 
these  men,  violent,  unscrupulous,  vulgar,  and  capable 
of  apologizing  for  such  inhuman  acts,  should  neverthe- 
less be  looked  up  to  by  such  multitudes  of  deluded 
followers,  as  their  only  spiritual  guides.  It  is  no  won- 
der that  the  people  become  brutalized." 

As  the  time  approached  for  their  departure,  Osborne 
was  perfecting  his  plans  for  the  escape  of  Carissa.  He 
had  not  seen  her  since  Christmas  night,  and  yielding 
to  Maury's  appeals  had  carefully  avoided  any  possible 
encounter  with  Brand.  But  he  had  received  several 
notes  from  her,  and  had  been  cheered  by  their  hopeful 
tone. 

337 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

He  had  succeeded  in  arousing  Colonel  Steptoe's 
enthusiastic  interest  in  the  affair,  and  the  plan  adopted 
seemed  to  promise  success.  The  detachment  was 
divided,  the  larger  portion  with  the  heavy  wagons  and 
supplies  going  in  advance  to  Rush  Valley,  and  thence 
by  the  southern  route  by  forced  marches  to  California. 
Colonel  Steptoe  and  a  portion  of  his  staff,  among 
them  being  Osborne  and  Maury,  equipped  for  fast 
traveling,  remained  in  the  city.  It  was  generally 
understood  that  they  were  to  join  the  larger  company 
on  the  march,  although  the  actual  intention  was  to 
proceed  by  Haw's  Ranch  and  the  northern  route,  and 
for  the  two  parties  to  come  together  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Great  Desert 

One  evening  in  May,  when  the  arrangements  were 
nearly  completed,  Osborne  entrusted  the  following  mes- 
sage to  the  hiding  place,  which  he  thought  had  safely 
concealed   so   many  of  his   own   and  Carissa's  letters: 

"Be  ready  to  start  at  a  moment's  notice,  in  a  day 
or  two.     We  shall  probably  start  soon  after  dark." 

Osborne  believed  that  all  his  trips  to  the  grove 
during  the  past  few  months  had  been  unobserved,  but 
therein  he  was  mistaken. 

His  visits  had  all  been  carefully  noted.  One  night 
Quibble  came  across  him  accidentally,  and  was 
induced  by  curiosity  to  follow  him.  He  saw  him 
enter  the  grove  of  pear  trees,  look  cautiously  around, 
and  then  go  to  a  certain  tree,  where  he  lingered  a 
moment,  and  then,  with  a  long  look  toward  the  house, 
took  his  departure.  It  was  a  mystery  that  he  could 
not  fathom  even  by  examining  the  tree,  but  that  only 
whetted  his  curiosity  the  more.  He  began  to  watch, 
and  several  times  his  patience  was  rewarded,  and  he 

338 


QUIBBLE'S     DIPLOMACY 

saw  Osborne  perform  the  same  meaningless  panto- 
mime. One  night  he  determined  to  solve  the  mystery, 
and  after  a  long  and  patient  search  in  the  darkness 
discovered  the  clever  hiding  place,  and  extracted  a 
small  piece  of  thin  paper  closely  folded  and  covered 
with  written  words. 

Delighted  with  his  success  he  carried  his  find  up 
on  to  the  hills,  kindled  a  fire  and  by  its  light  labori- 
ously spelled  through  the  contents.  It  was  enough  to 
convince  him  that  a  regular  correspondence  was  car- 
ried on  between  Osborne  and  Mrs.  Brand. 

The  thought  tickled  him.  His  hatred  for  Brand  had 
lost  none  of  its  virulence.  It  was  with  malicious  satis- 
faction that  he  restored  the  note  to  its  place,  and 
determined  to  silently  watch  the  drama  to  its  tragic 
end.  For  that  the  end  would  be  tragic,  Quibble  did 
not  doubt  for  an  instant. 

Osborne  little  thought  that  he  was  shadowed  every 
time  he  entered  the  Brand  pear  orchard,  and  that  his 
letters  were  read  by  another  pair  of  eyes  before  they 
reached  Carissa's. 

Quibble  did  not  betray  him.  He  had  no  inclination 
to  do  so,  and  the  vivid  memory  of  Brand's  violence  on 
a  former  occasion  would  alone  have  deterred  him. 
But  there  came  a  time  when  he  discovered  something 
that  did  not  suit  him.  He  was  lying  on  the  hill-side, 
holding  a  paper  so  that  the  fire-light  would  fall  full 
upon  it,  while  he  devoured  its  contents. 

Suddenly  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  exclaiming,  half 
audibly,  "So  that's  the  game,  is  it?  That  will  never 
do.  With  her  gone,  he'll  be  with  Maggie  all  the  time 
and  altogether."     He  sat  down  and  began  to  consider. 

"I'll  have  to  interfere  somehow,"  he  said  presently. 

339 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


His  success  in  spying  upon  Osborne  had  increased 
his  confidence  in  his  own  cleverness,  and  he  began  to 
wonder  if  he  could  not  make  serious  mischief  for 
Brand,  by  forcing  things  a  little. 

He  took  no  decisive  step,  however,  until  after  read- 
ing Osborne's  last  note,  when  he  discovered  that  time 
was  pressing.  He  had  already  outlined  his  plan,  and 
considered  it  a  clever  bit  of  contrivance.  He  would 
bring  the  two  men  together.  Osborne  should  be 
warned  as  well  as  Brand.  Of  course  there  would  be 
a  fight,  and  he  hoped  that  Brand  would  get  the  worst 
of  it.  During  the  next  day  he  picked  up  the  informa- 
tion that  they  would  be  all  ready  to  start  by  that  even- 
ing. He  was  unwilling  to  see  Brand  personally,  or  to 
appear  to  be  mixing  in  the  affair,  so  he  scrawled  a 
letter  and  sent  it  to  Elder  Carson. 

' '  Von  had  better  warn  Brother  Brand  that  his  number  one 
is  receiving  callers  these  ?iights,  and  he  had  better  be  o?i  the 
watch  if  he  wants  to  know  who.  Hell  be  there  a  little  after 
stmdozim  to?iight. ' ' 

"That'll  get  him  there,  I  reckon,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, as  he  despatched  the  note  by  a  boy.  He  then 
went  in  search  of  Osborne,  to  warn  him  that  Brand 
was  on  the  lookout  for  him.  He  met  him  on  the 
stairs,  and  stopped  him. 

"Say,  can't  I  go  with  you  to  California?"  he  asked, 
in  order  to  introduce  the  subject. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  go?"  asked  Osborne,  looking 
at  him  curiously. 

"I've  had  enough  of  this  country,"  he  replied, 
dropping  his   eyes.      "You  start  to-night,  don't  you?" 

"No,  to-morrow  afternoon,  if  we  can  get  ready," 
answered  Osborne. 

340 


QUIBBLE'S      DIPLOMACY 

"To-morrow!"  Quibble  looked  up  aghast;  the 
thought  flashed  across  him  that  he  had  sent  his  note 
prematurely 

"Why?  What  have  you  been  doing?  Have  you 
gotten  into  some  scrape  here  that  you're  so  anxious  to 
get  away?" 

"No,  not  that,"  stammered  Quibble,  "but  if  you 
don't  go  till  to-morrow,  can  I  see  you  in  the  morning?" 

"It's  no  possible  use,"  said  Osborne,  decidedly.  "I 
know  the  colonel  won't  take  you." 

Still  Quibble  lingered  and  hesitated.  Osborne  dis- 
liked to  dismiss  him  abruptly.  He  thought  he  was 
probably  in  some  trouble,  and,  although  he  was  not  a 
figure  to  command  much  respect,  he  nevertheless  felt  a 
certain  pity  for  him. 

"I'm  sorry,  my  man,  but  you  can  probably  find  some 
other  way." 

"It  ain't  that,"  began  Quibble.  "It's  something 
about  yourself.  I'm  at  Brother  Brand's  a  good  deal, 
and  I  know  that  he's  heard  something  about  your  visits 
lately  to  his  wife." 

Osborne  was  terribly  startled  and  drew  back. 

"How  long  since?"  he  asked,  hurriedly. 

"Last  night  he  spoke  about  it.  He  declared  he  was 
going  to  be  on  his  guard,  and  catch  the  fellow  in  the 
act,"  said  Quibble. 

"Come  up  stairs  here,  quick!" 

Osborne  led  him  to  his  room  and  closed  the  door. 
Maury  was  cleaning  his  rifle,  the  inevitable  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  which  he  removed  as  he  noticed  Osborne's 
excitement,  and  then  let  his  gaze  rest  upon  their  visitor. 

Quibble  was  fumbling  his  hat  nervously,  and  yet 
with  an  air  of  importance  evident  in  his  manner. 

341 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"Now  tell  me  all  you  know  about  this,"  demanded 
Osborne. 

"I've  told  you  everything.  He's  known  for  a  long 
time  that  you  have  had  something  to  do  with  her." 

"What's  up?"  asked  Maury. 

"Tell  this  gentleman  what  you  told  me,"  said 
Osborne. 

Quibble  did  so  with  great  exactness,  and  then  added 
with  vehement  sincerity:  "I  hate  him.  He  stole  my 
girl  from  me,  and  pretended  to  marry  her.  I'd  like  to 
see  him  done  up  good." 

"You  say  that  he  is  going  to  be  on  the  watch?" 
questioned  Maury. 

"Yes,  to-night  and  to-morrow  night,  and  until  you 
have  gone  for  good;  and  you'd  better  look  out  for  an 
ambush  after  you've  started,  for  he's  declared  he'll 
kill  you." 

Quibble  was  drawing  upon  his  imagination,  but  he 
had  a  point  to  gain,  and  in  his  last  statement  came 
unwittingly  very  near  the  truth  Brand  supposed  the 
party  would  go  by  the  southern  route  to  join  the 
detachment  that  had  already  started,  and  he  had  made 
full  preparations  to  waylay  them,  kill  Osborne  at  least, 
and  if  necessary  the  whole  party,  and  charge  the  crime 
upon  the  Indians. 

After  Quibble  had  apparently  told  all  that  he  knew, 
and  had  taken  his  departure,  Maury  relit  his  pipe  and 
said:  "Well,  I  suppose  this  will  not  induce  you  to 
give  the  matter  up?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"It  makes  it  a  deuced  sight  more  difficult,  though. 
I  don't  see  but  what  you'll  have  to  shoot  him,  or  get 
shot  yourself." 

342 


QUIBBLE'S       DIPLOMACY 

Osborne  was  absorbed  in  thought.  Finally  he  said: 
"I  don't  want  to  kill  him.  If  she  should  ever  know  it, 
it  would  be  a  dark  blot  on  all  her  future.  She  could 
never  be  happy  again.  I  know  her  better  than  you  do. 
No.  There  is  only  one  way  that  I  can  see.  He  knows 
nothing  of  our  plan  to  take  her  off,  and  will  not  be  on 
guard  against  it.  You  must  be  ready  to  take  charge  of 
her.  I  will  go  in  advance,  show  myself  and  draw  him 
away  from  the  house.  The  way  will  then  be  clear  for 
you  to  take  her.  If  I  get  away  I  can  join  you.  If  not, 
you'll  have  to  get  her  out  of  this  devilish  place  and 
guard  her  to  my  home." 

"Do  you  think  that  I'm  going  to  consent  to  that?" 
exclaimed  ]Maury.  "You  won't  have  one  chance  out 
of  a  hundred.  I'm  not  so  squeamish  as  you  are;  give 
me  a  chance  and  I'll  bring  him  down  fast  enough." 

"I  have  thought  it  all  over,"  said  Osborne,  "and  I 
don't  think  you  can  suggest  a  better  plan.  The  dark- 
ness, and  the  fact  that  I  shall  be  on  my  guard,  will  all 
be  in  my  favor.  I  will  have  my  horse  ready,  saddled 
and  bridled,  and  if  you  are  quick  the  whole  thing  can 
be  done  and  no  blood  shed." 

Maury  continued  to  demur  on  account  of  the  risk, 
but  Osborne  was  determined.  Several  other  plans 
were  suggested  by  Maury,  but  Osborne  held  to  his  own. 

"Well,  we'll  see  how  it  looks  to-morrow,"  said 
Maury,  finally.  "We'll  need  three  or  four  good  men 
anyhow." 

Osborne  named  three  from  his  own  company,  who 
seemed  to  possess  the  necessary  qualifications,  and  the 
affair  rested. 


343 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

CARISSA'S    DEPARTURE 

Elder  Carson  had  made  no  delay  in  conveying  Quib- 
ble's warning  to  Brand,  although  he  strove  to  minimize 
its  importance  in  the  telling. 

"There's  probably  nothing  seriously  wrong,  but  you 
might  as  well  look  into  it." 

Brand,  however,  furiously  declared  his  belief  in  the 
worst.  It  seemed  to  give  him  pleasure  to  believe  that 
Carissa  had  done  wrong. 

"I'm  thinking,  Brother  Brand,  you're  not  quite 
yourself;  anger  is  a  poor  substitute  for  reason." 

"But  what  else  can  you  make  of  that?"  demanded 
Brand,  pointing  to  the  note  with  a  quivering  finger. 

"She  may  have  been  imprudent;  and  again  it  may 
all  be  a  lie.  You  know  your  wife  too  well  to  believe 
that  she's  really  guilty." 

Carson  had  thought  the  matter  over  before  coming. 
He  had  a  certain  liking  for  Carissa,  and  knew  of 
Brand's  irascible  state.  He  blamed  himself  somewhat 
for  stirring  his  jealousy  into  a  flame  on  a  former  occa- 
sion. Besides,  he  had  a  purpose  of  his  own  to 
serve. 

"See  here!  I  don't  want  to  dictate,  or  to  seem  to 
interfere.  But  I  think  you  ought  to  take  her  away  to 
some  more  secluded  place.  Another  thing;  why  don't 
you  combine  your  households?  There's  always  trouble 
when  plural  wives  live  apart.  Of  course  they  will  use 
their  liberty.  If  they  are  together  you  can  guard 
them  better,  and  they  will  watch  each  other." 

344 


CARISSA'S      DEPARTURE 

This  appeal  to  reason  calmed  Brand  somewhat.  In 
spite  of  his  hatred  against  Osborne,  it  was  difficult  for 
him  to  calmly  adjudge  Carissa  guilty.  He  was  some- 
how inclined  to  harken  to  Carson's  suggestions. 

"If  I  make  a  change  it  ought  to  be  immediately," 
he  said. 

His  determination  was  fixed  that  nothing  should 
interfere  with  his  deadly  vengeance  upon  Osborne,  and 
he  did  not  know  how  long  he  would  be  delayed. 

"I  understand  that  you  have  recently  laid  claim  to 
some  grazing  land  in  Cache  Valley,"  suggested  Car- 
son. "I  am  going  up  there  to-night.  Why  not  take 
your  whole  family  and  go  with  me?  I  will  furnish  you 
with  a  wagon.  You  can  soon  gather  camping  outfit 
and  supplies." 

Brand  was  immediately  struck  with  the  suggestion. 
He  might  send  the  women  folk,  including  Maggie, 
and  that  would  leave  him  free. 

"I  have  thought  of  the  place  as  a  fine  location  for  a 
settlement,"  he  replied;  "but  at  present  there's  not  a 
white  man  there,  and  it's  rather  open  to  the  Indians." 

"We  don't  need  to  winter  there  until  there  are  more 
of  us.  W^e  will  have  to  protect  the  cattle  anyhow,  and 
the  women  and  children  will  be  perfectly  safe." 

"Do  you  have  to  go  to-night?"  Brand  asked. 

"Yes.  But  I  have  furnishings  enough  for  all  till 
your  teams  can  join  us." 

Brand  considered  the  matter  only  a  few  moments. 
The  plan  had  fully  commended  itself  to  him  at 
once. 

"Will  you  take  the  responsibility  of  their  care  for  a 
time,  and  let  me  come  later?  I  have  some  business  to 
attend  to."     Brand  put  the  question  abruptly. 

345 


BY    ORDER     OF    THE     PROPHET 

"Certainly.  They  will  be  company  for  my  women, 
and  will  make  a  merry  party." 

"That's  settled,  then.     What  time  do  you  start?" 

"A  little  before  sunrise." 

Brand  felt  relieved  by  his  sudden  decision.  There 
was  still  hope  in  his  heart  that  Carissa  might  become 
reasonable;  and  this  move  seemed  to  promise  as  well 
as  anything  he  could  think  of.  It  even  occurred  to 
him  that,  if  he  could  be  assured  of  Carissa's  submis- 
sion, he  might  forego  his  revenge  upon  Osborne. 

Carissa  started  violently  when  he  entered  the  room 
where  she  was  sitting.  He  had  called  but  seldom  of 
late,  and  it  had  been  many  weeks  since  he  had  seemed 
to  regard  this  place  as  his  home. 

He  greeted  her  courteously,  though  with  a  certain 
gloomy  restraint.  It  was  time  for  the  lighting  of 
candles;  and  as  she  made  no  move,  he  went  to  a  small 
closet,  took  them  out  and  lighted  them  himself.  He 
had  already  seen  Maggie,  informed  her  of  his  wishes, 
and  had  left  her  engaged  in  packing  the  necessary 
articles.  He  now  seated  himself  and  prepared  to  open 
the  matter  to  Carissa.  He  anticipated  no  opposition, 
but  was  embarrassed  by  her  silence. 

"Our  life  here  has  not  been  very  happy,  has  it.f' 
And  I  don't  suppose  that  you  will  feel  very  much 
regret  at  leaving!     Shall  you?" 

The  blood  left  her  face  immediately.  Her  eyes 
were  startled  into  an  expression  of  sudden  fear.  Had 
he  discovered  her  purpose? 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  inquired.  Her  voice  was 
weak  and  faltering.  Her  lips  seemed  reluctant  to  per- 
form their  office. 

Brand     watched     her     wonderingly.       Suddenly    a 

346 


CARISSA'S     DEPARTURE 


thought  flashed  through  him.  The  note  Carson  had 
brought!  The  departure  of  the  soldiers!  Carissa's 
strange  behavior;  all  were  brought  into  startling  asso- 
ciation. He  rejected  it  instantly  as  impossible.  Nev- 
ertheless he  rose  and  entered  his  wife's  bedroom. 
Everything  betokened  the  usual  order.  He  was  about 
to  return  when  he  noticed  the  closet  door  and  was  led 
to  open  it.  A  bundle  securely  tied  reposed  in  one 
corner.  It  was  but  the  work  of  an  instant  to  break  it 
open.  He  found  that  it  contained  an  assortment  of 
boy's  clothing,  and  a  few  necessary  toilet  articles.  He 
stepped  to  the  crib.  Moroni  was  asleep,  but  he  had 
kicked  off  the  covers  sufficiently  to  show  that  he 
had  been  put  to  bed  with  his  clothes  on.  Another 
glance  revealed  the  fact  that  the  pictures  of  Caris- 
sa's father  and  mother  were  not  in  their  accustomed 
places. 

He  returned  and  quietly  took  his  former  seat.  He 
had  been  absent  only  a  minute  or  two,  but  the  time 
had  seemed  like  an  eternity  to  Carissa,  as  she  had  vainly 
struggled  for  composure.  It  was  of  no  use,  she  felt 
herself  giving  way;  she  could  stand  his  questioning 
gaze  no  longer.  She  dropped  her  arms  upon  the  table 
and  her  head  upon  her  arms,  and  burst  into  a  passion 
of  weeping. 

"So  you  thought  that  you  would  leave  me,  did  you? 
When  were  you  to  start?" 

No  answer. 

"Believe  me  I  can  plan  better  for  you  than  that." 
He  had  assumed  a  tone  of  mocking  courtesy. 

He  went  to  the  inner  door  and  called,  "mother." 
When  Mrs.  Brand  appeared,  he  said  to  her:  "We  are 
all  going  into  the  country  to  spend  the  summer.     We 

347 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

start  to-night.  My  wife  is  unable  to  finish  her  pack- 
ing, and  you  will  please  do  it  for  her.  Get  your  own 
things  ready  also.  We  will  leave  the  furniture  for 
some  other  time." 

"La,  we  can't  be  ready  to  start  to-night,"  objected 
the  old  woman,  querulously. 

"You  must.  We  will  take  what  you  do  get  ready 
and  leave  the  rest."  His  manner  was  decided.  When 
he  turned  around  Carissa's  sobs  had  ceased,  and  she 
was  looking  at  him  appealingly.  She  raised  her  hands 
to  him  in  a  despairing  gesture. 

"Oh,  won't  you  have  mercy  and  let  me  leave  you? 
This  life  is  killing  me!" 

"Stop  such  hysterical  nonsense,"  he  commanded, 
furiously.  His  self-control  was  giving  way,  but  he 
made  an  effort  to  retain  it.  "If  you  have  anything 
you  want  to  take  with  you  that  is  not  already  packed 
you  had  better  get  it  ready,"  he  added. 

She  arose  with  an  effort,  went  to  her  room,  closed 
the  door  behind  her  and  dropped  upon  her  knees 
beside  the  bed. 

Why  had  she  been  so  foolish  as  to  indulge  any 
hope?  Wild  dreams  of  resistance,  of  immediate  flight, 
even  of  self-destruction,  came  to  her;  but  these  soon 
congealed  into  a  mood  of  hard,  bitter,  hopeless  sub- 
mission to  the  inevitable.  She  made  no  move  to  put 
her  personal  effects  together.  She  simply  waited, 
through  the  interminable  hours.  When  Brand  at  last 
roughly  announced  that  the  wagon  had  come,  she 
obeyed  his  command  to  put  on  her  warm  wrap  and 
mounted  to  her  seat  without  assistance.  Everything 
was  soon  loaded.  Last  of  all.  Brand  lifted  Moroni  to 
his  place,  and   for  the   first   time  that  night  his  heart 

348 


CARISSA'S      DEPARTURE 

smote  him  as  he  observed  how  mechanically  Carissa 
received  her  boy.  But  he  only  knit  his  brows  and  set 
his  lips  more  firmly  together. 

They  stopped  for  Maggie,  who  appeared  fresh  and 
laughing;  and  were  well  on  their  way  by  sunrise.  The 
other  wagons  had  already  started,  but  they  expected 
to  overtake  them  during  the  day  and  to  camp  together 
in  one  party. 

It  was  not  a  very  merry  company,  though  Carson 
and  Maggie  chatted  together  gaily  enough.  Carissa 
was  overwhelmed  with  her  terrible  disappointment. 
She  knew  now  how  intense  had  been  her  desire  to 
escape.  Even  the  presence  of  Moroni  failed  to  lighten 
the  dreary  prospect  that  was  before  her. 

Lieutenant  Osborne  would  be  compelled  to  leave 
with  the  troops.  He  would  know  nothing  of  the  dis- 
covery of  their  plans.  She  pictured  him  coming  to 
the  vacant  house.  She  saw  his  bewildered  look  of  dis- 
appointment. Why  had  she  not  made  an  effort  to  put 
a  note  of  explanation  in  the  hiding  place?  She  had 
been  too  stunned  to  think  of  it.  When  he  was  gone, 
her  one  hope  of  escape  would  have  departed.  What 
should  she  do?  It  seemed  impossible  that  she  could 
continue  to  live  out  her  life  in  dreary,  hopeless  rebel- 
lion against  the  inevitable.  She  looked  at  Maggie, 
and  envied  her  the  disposition  that  could  accept 
lightly  what  was  to  her  a  brand  of  infamy.  She 
thought  of  her  husband,  and  a  feeling  of  utter  loathing 
was  in  her  heart.  He  was  her  master,  and  she  hated 
him  for  the  mastery  he  exercised  so  ruthlessly,  because 
of  her  passion  for  her  boy. 

As  they  traveled  slowly  on  past  rude  farmhouses 
and  through  straggling  settlements,  the  burden  of  her 

349 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

thoughts  became  too  heavy  to  be  borne  and  she  closed 
her  eyes  in  pitiful  surrender  to  hopeless  apathy. 

She  was  aroused  at  length  by  Maggie  saying  to  her: 
"We  are  going  to  have  our  lunch.  Won't  you  eat 
something,  dear?     You  look  so  faint  and  tired." 

She  shook  her  head  and  rejected  the  proffered  cake. 

"It's  dood,  mamma.  Ain't  you  hungry?"  urged 
Moroni,  who  had  been  lifted  to  the  front  seat  by  Car- 
son, and  was  delighted  to  hold  the  lines  and  drive. 

"No,  dear,"  she  forced  herself  to  answer,  "but  you 
eat  all  you  want." 

Brand  had  been  in  the  saddle  all  day,  riding  ahead 
of  the  wagon  in  moody  silence.  He  now  drew  rein 
and  waited  for  them. 

"I  leave  you  here,"  he  said  to  Carson  abruptly. 
"The  other  wagons  are  just  ahead.  I  don't  know 
when  I  shall  join  you.  There's  a  little  business  to  be 
attended  to  first,  back  there." 

There  was  an  odd  menace  in  his  speech,  and  it  was 
accompanied  by  a  lowering  glance  at  Carissa. 

She  had  thought  there  was  nothing  more  to  fear,  but 
his  look  and  tone  caused  her  heart  to  leap  again  in 
sudden  terror.  She  interpreted  both  unerringly,  and 
she  watched  him  with  a  gathering  look  of  horror  as  he 
raised  his  hat  and  turned  his  horse  back  along  the  road 
they  had  traveled. 

"Stop!"  She  suddenly  cried  out.  He  reined  in  his 
horse  and  looked  back  at  her. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

He  continued  looking  at  her  steadily  a  moment,  the 
sombre  light  of  wicked  triumph  stealing  over  his  face. 

"Nothing  that  ought  to  concern  you  deeply,"  he 
replied,  very  deliberately      "I  am  expecting  a  visitor 

350 


CARISSA'S      DEPARTURE 

to-night  back  at  the  house  we  have  left,  and  I  want  to 
see  that  he  is  received  properly.     That  is  all." 

He  waited,  a  sneering  smile  upon  his  lips,  while  the 
color  faded  from  her  face  and  the  affrighted  look 
deepened  in  her  eyes,  and  then,  with  an  oath,  he  put 
spurs  to  his  horse  and  rode  rapidly  away. 

Scarcely  had  the  sound  of  clattering  hoofs  died 
away  when  Carissa  plucked  Carson  by  the  sleeve. 

"You  must  not  let  him  go.  Call  to  him  quick." 
The  words  came  from  dry  lips  that  trembled  with 
feverish  impatience. 

Carson  leaned  over  the  wheel  and  looked  after 
Brand's  retreating  figure. 

"He's  too  far,"  he  said,  "besides  it's  of  no  use,  he's 
made  up  his  mind." 

"Then  you  must  take  me  back  also,"  exclaimed 
Carissa,  excitedly.     "Turn  the  horses  around;  I  must 

go." 

"It  can't  be  done.  Sister  Brand,  we've  come  a  long 
ways  and  the  critters  are  tired.  We  just  couldn't 
reach  there  to-night,  and  Brother  Brand  would  be 
furious  with  me." 

As  he  spoke  he  touched  the  horses  with  the  whip, 
and  the  heavy  wagon  began  to  move  forward  again. 

"Stop.  I  must  get  out  and  go  back,"  cried  Carissa, 
rising  to  her  feet;  but  as  Carson  only  glanced  from  her 
to  i\Iaggie  with  a  look  of  puzzled  amazement,  she 
clasped  her  hands  together  and  moaned,  "Oh,  you  do 
not  know  what  it  means." 

Maggie  did  not  know  all  her  trouble,  but  she 
guessed  some  of  it.  She  had  never  lost  her  kindly 
feeling  for  Carissa,  whom  she  regarded  as  her  superior, 
and  now  she  yielded  to  the  maternal   instinct  for  pro- 

351 


BY    ORDER     OF    THE     PROPHET 


tection.     She  quickly  climbed  from  the  front  to  the 
back  seat,  and  impulsively  put  her  arms  about  Carissa. 

"We  can't  go  back,  dear,  but  don't  carry  on  so  and 
grieve  yourself.  Mr.  Brand  will  come  back  all  right. 
The  soldiers  have  all  gone  by  this  time,  and  they're 
the  only  ones  he's  angered  at." 

"But  the  troops  were  not  to  leave  till  to-morrow," 
exclaimed  Carissa,  struggling  with  her  fears. 

But  Maggie  was  not  to  be  thwarted  in  her  purpose 
to  comfort  by  any  absurd  notion  of  sticking  to  the 
truth;  especially  when  she  knew  there  was  no  one 
there  to  contradict  her. 

"But  they  changed  their  plans,  dear;  Jock  Quibble 
told  me  last  night;  and  they  were  all  to  leave  by  noon 
to-day.  I  could  have  told  Brother  Brand,  but  1  knew 
that  he  would  need  to  bring  the  furniture  anyway. 
There,  dear,  don't  cry  or  worry,  just  put  your  head 
down  on  my  arm  and  get  some  rest." 

When  Brand  reached  the  city  he  soon  satisfied  him- 
self that  Osborne  was  ignorant  of  the  day's  happenings, 
and  would  not  leave  until  that  night;  he,  therefore, 
spent  the  day  in  the  deserted  house  where  he  had  first 
brought  his  wife;  brooding  over  the  past  and  supply- 
ing fresh  fuel  to  the  ever-burning  fire  of  his  evil 
passions. 


352 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

OSBORNE'S    DEPARTURE 

The  following  day  passed  slowly  for  Osborne,  who 
was  in  a  fever  of  impatience  for  the  time  of  action  to 
arrive;  he  slept  but  little  the  night  before,  and  in  the 
morning  felt  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  not  com- 
municating with  Carissa,  no  matter  what  the  risk,  con- 
cerning his  plans. 

Colonel  Steptoe's  preparations  for  departure  were 
completed  by  noon.  A  few  calls  of  ceremony  had  to 
be  made.  It  was  given  out  that  they  would  not  begin 
the  journey  till  daylight  the  following  morning,  but 
everything  was  in  readiness  at  a  convenient  camping 
place  just  outside  the  city,  with  the  small  detachment 
of  soldiers  on  guard. 

Colonel  Steptoe,  Captain  Ingalls,  Lieutenant  Maury 
and  Osborne  were  invited  to  take  a  farewell  supper 
with  Judge  Kinney.  District  Attorney  Holman  was 
present  and  a  few  other  prominent  Gentile  officials. 
The  conversation  naturally  turned  upon  the  political 
situation. 

"Say  what  you  will,"  declared  the  judge  emphatic- 
ally, "this  community  is  bound  to  play  a  most  impor- 
tant part  in  the  history  of  the  West.  Immigration  the 
last  two  or  three  years  has  been  greater  than  ever 
before.  The  people  that  come  may  be  ignorant  and 
fanatical  in  a  way,  but  they  are  industrious  and 
patient.  See  how  they  have  branched  out  already. 
There  are  thriving  settlements  to  the  south  of  us.  and 

353 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

to  the  north  as  well.  The  time  is  not  far  distant  when 
every  tillable  valley  in  this  region  will  be  swarming 
with  settlers,  and  they  will  soon  begin  to  carry  out 
their  design  of  establishing  a  chain  of  Mormon  settle- 
ments from  here  to  California.  They  have  shown 
their  power  to  control  their  people,  and  according  to 
their  own  standards  they  are  chaste  and  virtuous,  and 
good  citizens.  Of  course,  their  system  seems  wrong  to 
us,  but  if  we  believed  in  its  righteousness  as  they  do, 
we  should  think  it  the  right  thing." 

"But  do  you  think  their  leaders — President  Young 
and  his  counsellors,  for  example — are  sincere  in  their 
belief?"  asked  Maury. 

'Yes,  I  do.  They  are  not  very  spiritual;  but  the 
belief  they  hold  is  not  spiritual  either,  so  there  is  no 
inconsistency.  They  are  coarse,  domineering  and 
masterful;  but  their  highest  religious  ambition  is  to 
attain  to  unlimited  dominion,  and  lord  it  over  unlim- 
ited multitudes." 

"But  how  about  their  acts  of  violence,  their  practice 
of  deceit  to  win  converts,  their  interference  with  civil 
courts  of  justice  and  the  like?"  persisted  Maury. 

"Their  descendants  will  tell  you  that  they  were  no 
worse  than  the  mother  of  all  the  Christian  churches," 
answered  the  judge,  with  a  laugh.  "Their  record  will 
compare  favorably  with  the  Catholic  Inquisition,  the 
methods  of  the  Jesuits,  the  diplomacy  of  Rome,  and 
even  with  much  in  the  history  of  Protestantism  itself. 
When  civilization  pushes  its  way  over  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  these  people  are  compelled  to  yield 
to  its  educating,  humanizing  processes,  most  of  these 
features  will  be  gradually  modified  and  finally  elim- 
inated." 

354 


OSBORNE'S     DEPARTURE 


"I  am  afraid  that  will  be  too  long  a  time  for  some 
of  us  to  wait,  eh,  Osborne?"  Maury  wanted  to 
arouse  his  friend  from  his  fit  of  abstraction. 

"I  think  this  system  is  simply  an  abomination,"  said 
Osborne  emphatically.  "I  don't  believe  in  persecu- 
tion, but  I  certainly  think  that  the  strong  arm  of  the 
national  government  should  so  firmly  establish  the 
civil  law  in  this  region  that  the  poor,  deluded,  help- 
less victims  of  a  merciless  priesthood  could  claim 
some  protection." 

"That  will  come  in  time;  and  the  time  will  come 
when  the  people  themselves  will  welcome  it," 
declared  the  judge. 

"His  Honor  is  in  a  prophetic  mood  to-night," 
laughed  Holman.  "A  transcontinental  railroad  will 
need  to  be  built  first,  and  that  will  not  be  done  this 
century." 

"On  the  contrary,  we  shall  both  live  to  see  it.  I 
will  pledge  my  reputation  as  a  prophet  on  that." 

The  time  at  length  arrived  for  the  party  to  break 
up.  Colonel  Steptoe  declined  the  offers  made  by 
several  to  accompany  them  to  camp,  and  they  were 
soon  in  saddle. 

After  proceeding  a  short  distance  the  colonel  drew 
rein  and  said  gravely:  "I  don't  know  that  I  have  done 
right  to  consent  to  this  thing.  It  may  get  us  into  seri- 
ous difficulty,  but  you  have  my  word,  and  I  don't  go 
back  on  it.  In  about  an  hour  you  can  get  to  work. 
Be  careful  about  making  a  disturbance  and  arousing 
the  town.  I  will  start  forward  with  the  men  and  you 
can  join  us  on  the  Grantsville  road." 

After  Colonel  Steptoe's  departure,  Osborne  and 
Maury  rode  around  by  a  side  street,  and  picked  up  the 

355 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

men   who   were   waiting,    and   lost  no  time  in  muffling 
their  horses'  feet. 

When  all  was  in  readiness,  Osborne  said  to  Maury: 
"Of  course  we  know  that  the  affair  is  more  serious 
than  the  colonel  thinks.  But  if  anything  happens, 
you'll  send  word  home,  and  all  that,  and  do  as  I  have 
asked  you?"     The  two  men  clasped   hands  in  silence. 

The  night  was  calm  and  clear.  After  separating 
from  his  companions,  Osborne  rode  to  the  east,  and 
circling  around,  picketed  his  horse  securely  on  the 
slope  beyond  the  town,  about  five  hundred  yards  from 
the  residence  of  the  Brands.  He  waited  long  enough 
for  Maury  to  have  time  to  approach  the  grove  of  pear 
trees,  where  he  was  to  take  his  position,  and  then  he 
walked  toward  the  house. 

He  had  often  noticed  the  peculiar  silence  of  this 
valley.  There  were  no  large  trees  to  catch  the  sighing 
of  the  wind,  and  to-night  this  silence  seemed  ominous 
and  oppressive.  The  city  just  below  him  had  gone  to 
sleep.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  early 
summer  night,  except  the  low  murmur  of  the  hurrying 
water  in  the  shallow  ditch  at  his  feet.  Every  sense 
was  on  the  alert  and  strained  to  the  utmost  as  he 
neared  the  place. 

Was  it  possible,  he  wondered,  that  he  had  been  mis- 
informed and  that  no  watch  was  being  kept?  Had 
Brand  heard  of  their  departure,  and  set  himself  to  fol- 
low or  intercept  them,  in  accordance  with  his  threats? 
The  house  seemed  preternaturally  silent  and  dead. 

He  did  not  pause  or  hesitate,  but  turned  the  corner 
and  once  more  approached  the  window  of  Carissa's 
sitting-room.  He  was  now  in  full  view  from  the  place 
where  Maury  and  the  men  were  concealed. 

356 


OSBORNE'S     DEPARTURE 


Suddenly  he  started  forward;  a  handkerchief  was 
lying  partly  outside  the  window  and  imprisoned  by 
the  sash.  It  was  the  old  signal;  every  apprehension 
vanished.  Providence  had  favored  them.  She  was 
within  and  waiting.  But  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost; 
he  sounded  a  whistle  for  Maury,  and  stepping  forward. 
tapped  gently  on  the  window  pane. 

A  feeling  of  eager  expectation  thrilled  him  as  he 
saw  the  window  slowly  rising. 

Suddenly  it  was  thrown  to  its  full  height  violently. 
An  arm  and  body  were  thrust  forth.  It  was  Brand. 
He  held  a  pistol  in  his  hand. 

"So  you've  come,"  he  cried  fiercely.  "Well,  take 
your  greeting!" 

Osborne  sprang  forward  to  seize  the  weapon,  but  he 
was  too  late.  He  felt  a  stunning  blow  on  his  chest, 
followed  by  a  sharp  pain  and  a  ringing  sensation  in 
his  ears.  There  was  a  rush  behind  him.  and  he  knew 
no  more. 

Maury  had  been  able  to  follow  his  comrade's  move- 
ments from  the  time  he  entered  the  enclosure.  His 
rifle  was  in  instant  readiness,  his  hawklike  gaze  search- 
ing every  shadow.  In  his  eagerness  he  had  crept 
beyond  the  shadow  of  the  orchard  when  Osborne 
approached  the  window.  He,  too,  began  to  think  that 
possibly  no  watch  was  kept.  He  heard  the  whistle 
and  turned  to  signal  to  the  men.  At  that  moment 
Brand's  low-voiced  menace  broke  as  a  terrible  shock 
upon  his  ear.  He  leaped  forward  as  the  shot  was 
fired,  and  Osborne  reeled  backward. 

Brand  saw  him  coming,  but  was  not  able  to  recover 
himself  till  a  fierce  blow  from  Maury's  rifle  stock  fell 
upon  his  arm. 

35? 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

"Don't  let  that  man  escape,"  cried  Maury  to  the 
men.      "He  s  dangerous,   though  his  arm  is  broken." 

But  Brand,  though  suffering  intensely,  was  not  dis- 
abled for  flight.  "I've  finished  him,"  he  muttered 
with  a  savage  oath,  "and  the  rest  doesn't  matter." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  men  reported  that  he  had 
escaped,  and  that  the  house  was  entirely  deserted. 

Maury  was  bending  over  Osborne,  who  was  breath- 
ing heavily  and  was  even  now  trying  to  speak. 

"What  is  it,  old  fellow?     Where  did  he  hit  you?' 

"Don't  leave  her  behind,"  gasped  the  wounded 
man. 

"All  right;  we'll  see  to  it."  Then  turning  to  the 
men,  he  said:  "Go  and  search  again  thoroughly.  Be 
quick,  and  report  all  you  find." 

He  unfastened  his  friend's  outer  garments,  and 
ripped  open  his  shirt.  The  wound  was  plain  enough, 
even  in  the  dim  light,  and  appeared  to  be  just  above 
the  heart. 

"We  must  get  him  out  of  here  quick,  woman  or  no 
woman,"  thought  Maury. 

He  gave  a  low  whistle  and  one  of  the  men  appeared. 

"There's  no  one  there,  sir." 

"Never  mind;  get  on  your  horse  and  ride  like  the 
devil  after  the  colonel.  Tell  him  Osborne  has  been 
shot,  and  to  come  back  at  once  with  the  surgeon  to 
Judge  Kinney's.     Quick!" 

In  the  meanwhile,  he  had  been  staunching  the 
wound;  close  against  it  he  laid  Carissa's  handkerchief, 
and  bound  it  as  securely  as  possible. 

The  search  for  any  clue  to  Carissa's  whereabouts 
proving  utterly  unavailing,  a  rude  litter  was  con- 
structed   and    spread    with   blankets    from  the  house. 

358 


OSBORNE'S     DEPARTURE 


Osborne  was  laid  upon  it,  and  the  sad  procession  took 
up  its  line  of  march. 

It  was  not  long  before  Colonel  Steptoe  arrived  at 
the  Union  Hotel,  where  Osborne  was  lying.  All 
waited  in  the  greatest  suspense  for  the  result  of  the 
surgeon's  examination.  Presently  he  made  a  slight 
incision  under  the  arm  and  extracted  a  bullet. 

"It's  a  close  call,"  he  said,  "but  he'll  pull 
through." 

A  consultation  was  held  as  to  their  future  course. 
"It's  a  deuced  bad  business,"  said  Colonel  Steptoe, 
who  was  in  evident  perplexity.  "I  hate  to  leave  him 
here;  there's  no  knowing  what  mischief  he'll  get  into. 
Even  if  he  keeps  quiet,  he'll  not  be  very  safe.  And 
he  won't  keep  quiet.  As  soon  as  he's  well  enough, 
he'll  be  searching  this  valley  from  one  end  to  the 
other.     How  soon  can  he  be  moved?" 

"In  about  a  week  we  can  take  him  by  easy  stages," 
replied  the  surgeon. 

"That  settles  it,  then,  we  must  wait."  Orders  were 
given  for  the  detachment  that  had  started  that  night 
to  return  to  their  former  quarters. 

Osborne's  wound  healed  rapidly, though  he  fretted 
intolerably  over  the  mystery  of  Carissa's  disappear- 
ance. The  men  declared  that  Brand  had  made  his 
escape  alone,  using  Osborne's  horse  for  the  purpose; 
and  in  spite  of  his  utmost  efforts  Maury  could  discover 
nothing  further  of  either  him  or  his  family. 

In  a  little  over  a  week  Colonel  Steptoe  again  took 
his  departure  for  the  coast,  and  in  spite  of  his  most 
vigorous  remonstrance,  Osborne  was  compelled  by 
orders  to  accompany  him.  The  formality  of  an  arrest 
was    threatened    in    order    to    induce    submission.     A 

359 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

comfortable  couch  was  made  for  him  in  one  of  the 
spring  wagons,  but  he  endured  the  journey  only 
because  of  his  settled  determination  to  return  again,  as 
soon  as  he  could  regain  his  liberty. 


360 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

IN    CACHE   VALLEY 

There  is  no  more  charming  spot  in  all  the  habitable 
portion  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  region  than  Cache 
Valley,  in  northern  Utah.  It  consists  of  a  sheltered 
oasis  of  green,  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  of  piled-up 
rocks,  that  lift  their  craggy  summits  mountain  high  on 
every  side.  Ordinarily,  Carissa  would  have  delighted 
in  all  the  charms  of  natural  scenery  in  which  the  coun- 
try abounded.  The  place  selected  for  their  camping 
ground  was  near  the  mouth  of  the  beautiful  Logan 
Canyon.  They  were  the  only  inhabitants  of  this  wide 
stretch  of  fertile  territory,  that  was  destined  in  after 
years  to  support  a  score  or  more  of  thriving  towns  and 
cities. 

But  Carissa  was  in  no  mood  to  take  note  of  the 
beauties  of  nature.  She  was  in  a  state  of  great 
nervous  tension.  Her  anxious  fears  concerning 
Osborne  at  first  drew  her  thoughts  away  from  her  own 
situation.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  undisguised 
threat  conveyed  by  Brand's  vindictive  look  and  mock- 
ing words.  She  was  sure  of  his  murderous  purpose; 
but  had  it  succeeded?  The  more  she  thought  of  Mag- 
gie's words  of  reassurance  the  less  satisfaction  they 
afforded  her.  If  an  earlier  start  had  been  determined 
on,  she  knew  that  Osborne  would  have  made  an  effort 
to  communicate  with  ner.  Finding  the  house  deserted, 
he   would   begin    an  investigation,   and  she  felt  con- 

361 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


vinced  that  he  would  not  leave  until  he  had  discovered 
her  whereabouts  or  had  met  Brand. 

At  the  thought  of  such  a  meeting  and  its  possible 
results  she  trembled.  It  seemed  terrible  to  her  that 
one  who  had  given  her  such  loyal  and  chivalrous 
friendship  should,  because  of  that  friendship,  be  called 
to  face  peril  and  possible  death. 

During  these  days  of  suspense  she  first  began  to 
appreciate  the  devotion  of  Osborne  at  its  true  worth, 
and  she  instinctively  pitted  him  in  her  thought  against 
the  one  to  whom  she  had  given  all  her  love,  but  who 
had  betrayed  both  love  and  trust  so  cruelly. 

The  little  camp  presented  a  scene  of  busy  life. 
There  were  three  tents;  one  occupied  by  the  teamsters 
and  herders,  who  had  left  their  families  behind  them; 
one  for  Carson,  his  three  wives  and  five  small  children, 
and  another  for  Carissa  and  Maggie. 

The  men  of  the  party  were  occupied  in  constructing 
a  corral  not  far  away,  and  in  hauling  timber  for  a 
dwelling  house  and  out-buildings.  The  women  had 
their  own  tasks,  and  at  times  even  assisted  in  the 
heavier  labor  of  the  men. 

The  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  polygamous 
housekeeping  on  a  primitive  scale  were  well  illus- 
trated in  the  case  of  Carson's  household.  He  moved 
among  the  members  of  his  family  with  an  assumption 
of  patriarchal  dignity;  divided  their  labor  and 
assigned  them  their  tasks;  composed  their  differences 
when  he  could,  and  when  he  could  not,  left  them  to 
come  to  a  settlement  by  themselves;  practiced  strict 
impartiality  in  the  matter  of  favors  bestowed,  and  was 
quite  undisturbed  by  the  necessary  promiscuity  of  so 
large  a  household  gathered  under  one  tent. 

362 


IX      CACHE      VALLEY 


Carson  was  a  man  of  cool  temperament  and  unusual 
self-command,  but  even  his  suavity  could  not  conceal 
the  sordid  spectacle  of  three  jealous  women  in  one 
household,  each  striving  for  precedence  and  seeking 
to  displace  the  others,  and  continuing,  sometimes 
openly,  sometimes  under  cover,  the  strife  and  dissen- 
sion that  were  inevitable,  even  under  most  favorable 
conditions. 

Carissa  was  repelled  by  the  atmosphere  that  was 
created  by  this  sordid  condition.  She  was  in  a  state 
of  isolation  from  all  about  her.  Her  own  thoughts 
gave  her  no  rest,  and  there  was  no  relief  in  the  society 
of  others.  She  nervously  avoided  all  contact  with  the 
members  of  Carson's  mixed  household,  and  endeav- 
ored to  keep  Moroni  to  herself  as  much  as  possible. 
She  had  no  thought  of  giving  offense;  it  seemed  the 
only  thing  that  she  could  do;  but  in  so  small  and  open 
a  community  such  an  attitude,  persisted  in,  must  soon 
alienate  the  natural  sympathy  of  neighbors  and  arouse 
active  dislike. 

Carissa  soon  began  to  be  regarded  as  too  precise  and 
proud,  and  as  putting  on  airs  above  her  station.  At 
first  she  was  only  relieved  that  she  w^as  permitted  to 
be  alone,  and  was  unconscious  of  the  feeling  that  was 
growing  up  against  her.  But  one  day  she  w-as  sharply 
awakened  to  the  ferment  of  bitterness  that  w^as  work- 
ing; in  her  little  world. 

She  w^as  standing  looking  off  across  the  valley  to  the 
distant  barrier  of  the  mountains,  thinking  of  Osborne 
and  her  old  home,  and  indulging  her  intense  longing 
for  freedom  when  she  noticed  that  Moroni  had  left  her 
side  and  was  making  his  way  toward  Carson's  tent 
door.     Two  of  his  wives    were    amiably   engaged    in 

363 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

washing  some  blankets,  and  the  third  was  seated  on  a 
rock,  holding  out  her  hands  to  the  little  fellow  and 
coaxing  him  to  come. 

"Come  to  mamma,  Moroni,"  Carissa  called  quickly. 
They  all  looked  up,  and  Carissa  suddenly  felt  the  pres- 
ence of  their  jealous  hostility.  The  woman  who  had 
been  coaxing  him,  dropped  her  arms,  rose  from  the 
rock,  and  turning  to  her  companions  said,  with  a 
laugh,  'The  Prince  isn't  to  be  handled  by  common 
folks;  pretty  good,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh,  well,  she  needn't  hold  herself  so  high  and 
mighty,"  was  the  spiteful  rejoinder  from  one  of  the 
others,  "when  her  man  returns  he'll  soon  bring  her  to 
terms." 

Carissa  stood  as  though  stunned,  surprise  and  indig- 
nation struggling  together  in  her  face,  and  then  a 
thought  came  that  swallowed  up  everything  else. 

When  Brand  should  return!  What  would  she  do? 
All  in  a  moment  she  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  he 
stood  for  all  that  she  most  hated  and  dreaded  in  her 
life.     And  he  would  surely  return. 

She  looked  toward  the  little  tent  occupied  by  herself 
and  Maggie,  with  Mrs.  Brand  and  Moroni.  When 
Brand  should  return,  he  would  expect  to  occupy  it 
with  them.  All  that  that  would  mean  flashed  vividly 
before  her.  The  blood  flamed  up  into  her  cheeks 
hotly,  and  then  receded,  leaving  her  deadly  pale.  She 
needed  no  further  enlightenment  to  grasp  the  situation 
fully.     She  knew  that  she  could  never  endure  it. 

The  horrors  of  her  condition  would  be  forced  upon 
her  hourly;  there  could  be  no  privacy,  no  place  of 
retirement,  either  for  herself  or  her  boy.  She 
pictured    herself   crouching   away,    seeking   to  shield 

364 


IN      CACHE      VALLEY 


herself  and  her  innocent  child  from  contact  with  what 
she  could  never  meet  and  continue  to  live.  She  could 
expect  no  consideration  from  Brand,  even  though  he 
should  understand  her  feelings;  the  vision  was  over- 
powering. Every  instinct  of  her  nature  was  in  revolt. 
It  was  impossible  that  she  could  live  this  life!  that 
she  knew.  But  how  could  she  escape?  The  vision 
presented  by  her  sudden  thought  was  so  real  that  her 
dread  was  overpowering,  and  the  impulse  to  fly  before 
it  was  too  late  was  not  to  be  resisted. 

She  felt  Moroni's  little  hand  stealing  into  hers,  and 
without  forethought  or  purpose  she  gripped  it  tightly 
and  started  to  walk  rapidly  away,  up  toward  the  can- 
yon's mouth.  She  looked  neither  behind  nor  before 
her,  but  went  steadily  onward  driven  by  her  desperate 
thoughts. 

"Mamma,  'ou  hurt  me,"  pleaded  a  little  voice. 
"Forgive  me,  darling,  I  did  not  know."     Remorse- 
fully she  stooped  and  covered  his  face  with  passionate 
kisses,    and   lifting   him   in   her  arms  she  carried  him 
onward. 

They  had  already  left  the  camp  far  behind  them,  and 
were  climbing  recklessly  over  the  rough  rocks  that 
lined  the  course  of  the  brawling  stream. 

"Where  we  doin',  mamma?'  Moroni  asked,  bravely 
suppressing  his  sobs. 

"I  do  not  know,  darling,  but  God  will  tell  us,"  she 
answered,   mechanically. 

"Won't  we  ever  do  back,  mamma?" 

She   only   held    him  more  closely  and  hurried  on. 

Where  was  she  going?    What  was  her  purpose?     She 

knew  well  that  there  could   be   nothing  at  the  end  of 

such    a    journey    as    this.     The    path   was  continually 

365 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


growing  wilder  and  more  rugged.  She  was  not  con- 
scious of  the  difficulties  of  the  way  or  of  physical 
weariness,  though  her  breath  was  coming  in  short, 
panting  gasps,  and  she  often  reeled  as  she  walked. 
She  was  fleeing  from  the  vision  that  had  come  to  her. 
She  was  seeking  to  leave  her  life  behind  her.  Pres- 
ently her  steps  grew  slower.  She  could  not  continue 
this  exertion  much  longer. 

"Mamma,  I'z  firsty." 

She  looked  around  her;  a  little  stream  came  bub- 
bling down  from  the  side  of  the  rugged  gorge,  and 
passing  under  an  archway  of  ferns,  leaped  into  the 
mountain  torrent  whose  course  they  had  been  fol- 
lowing. 

She  set  Moroni  down  and  held  some  water  in  her 
hands  while  he  eagerly  drank.  The  icy  touch  of  this 
water,  fresh  from  the  snows,  seemed  to  cool  her  fever. 
They  had  halted  in  a  beautiful  spot,  sheltered,  fresh 
and  cool.  The  overhanging  rocks  on  either  side  were 
festooned  with  vines.  The  air  was  filled  with  a  fresh 
woodland  odor  of  moist  earth  and  spring  flowers.  The 
dashing  stream  filled  the  place  with  a  wild  music  that 
appealed  to  her  strangely. 

"How  beautiful  life  could  be,"  she  thought,  as  she 
looked  about  her  in  momentary  forgetfulness,  and  then 
down  into  Moroni's  bright,  laughing  face.  But  what 
could  life  hold  for  her?  She  could  not  return.  A 
shudder  seized  her  at  the  thought.  Any  death  would 
be  better  than  to  sink  her  soul  to  the  level  of  daily 
contact  with  what  seemed  like  pollution. 

"If  I  should  learn  to  endure  it,  I  should  become  like 
them,  but  I  could  never  learn  to  endure  it.  I  should 
go  mad." 

366 


IN      CACHE      VALLEY 

She  arose  and  took  Moroni's  hand.  "Come,  dear,  let 
us  go  on.  You  can  walk  a  little  way,  darling,  and 
when  you  are  tired  I  will  carry  you  again." 

She  knew  where  she  was  going  now  and  what  was 
her  purpose.  They  would  commit  themselves  to  God, 
and  follow  the  stream  wherever  it  led.  When  their 
strength  should  fail  and  the  time  should  come  for  them 
to  die,  there  would  be  no  struggle,  they  would  be  in 
His  keeping  and  all  would  be  well. 

She  picked  their  way  more  carefully  now,  but  went 
steadily  on.  IMoroni  was  delighted  with  the  excur- 
sion, and  showed  his  happiness  by  his  merry  questions 
and  joyful  exclamations.  His  sturdy  legs  were  not 
soon  w^earied,  although  the  grade  was  often  steep. 
Carissa  carried  him  part  of  the  way,  but  her  strength 
was  now  unequal  to  bearing  the  burden  long  at  a 
time.  When  evening  began  to  close  about  them,  she 
knew  that  they  had  come  a  long  distance  from  the 
canyon's  mouth. 

Moroni  complained  of  being  hungry,  and  finally  set 
up  a  pitiful  little  cry:  "I'z  tired,  mamma,  let  us  do 
back." 

"Hush,  dear,  don't  cry.  See,  here  is  a  nice  little 
place  to  rest.  We  will  sit  down  here  and  I  will  tell 
you  a  story." 

She  sought  the  shelter  of  a  wide  arching  cleft  in  the 
rocky  wall,  and,  taking  him  in  her  arms  and  snuggling 
him  warmly  against  her,  she  soon  soothed  him  to 
slumber. 

How  solemn  was  the  gathering  night  in  that  far 
cleft  of  the  mountains.  Just  before  her  a  huge  wall  of 
black  rock  towered  high  in  threatening  majesty.  Far 
down  toward  the  west  she  could  watch  the  reflection 

367 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


of  the  setting  sun.  The  air  grew  suddenly  much 
cooler,  and  she  shivered  in  her  light  summer  clothing. 
She  began  to  realize  that  the  night  would  be  much 
sharper  here  than  down  in  the  valley.  She  might  die 
of  exposure.  At  the  thought  a  throb  of  joy  filled  her 
heart.  The  weary  waiting  for  release  would  soon  be 
over! 

When  the  sunlight  leaves  these  narrow  mountain 
gorges,  the  descent  of  the  cold  from  the  snow-packed 
spaces  above  is  often  very  sudden.  Carissa  sat  care- 
less of  exposure,  listening  to  the  brawling  of  the 
stream,  exulting  in  the  cold  and  inviting  the  biting 
breath  of  frost  that  was  wrapping  her  in.  Moroni  had 
fallen  asleep  and  was  cuddled  up  cozily  in  her  arms. 
As  she  moved  a  little  her  hand  touched  his  cheek. 
How  warm  it  was  against  her  cold  hand!  She  might 
die;  but  her  very  embrace  would  keep  warmth  and  life 
in  his  body  after  she  was  gone.  The  thought  aroused 
her  immediately.  What  was  she  doing?  They  would 
come  and  take  him  from  her  arms,  down  again  into 
the  valley,  to  that  life  she  hated  so  intensely,  and 
would  rear  him  in  the  faith  that  had  ruined  her  life. 
Again  a  biting  breath  of  cold  came  down  from  the 
upper  canyon  and  assailed  her.  She  suddenly 
feared  it. 

Surely  this  would  mean  death  to  her,  for  she  cer- 
tainly could  not  endure  the  cold  and  exposure  till 
morning — but  Moroni!  She  remembered  that  she  was 
holding  him  too  warmly.  She  must  not  die  first  and 
leave  him  without  her  guardianship.  She  looked  up 
piteously.  The  stars  were  coming  out  one  by  one,  and 
as  they  peered  down  through  the  narrow  opening  of 
rock,   they  looked  strangely  large  and  glowing.     Up 

368 


.^HE    TRIED    TO    LEAVE    HI.M    THERE    BUT    SOMETHING    HELD    HE 


R. 


IN      CACHE      VALLEY 

there  God  was  watching  her — how  far  away  He 
seemed.  What  monstrous  teaching  she  had  received 
from  the  lips  of  her  husband!  It  returned  to  her  now 
as  a  grotesque  caricature  of  the  God  whom  she  had 
learned  to  love  and  reverence  in  her  childhood.  He 
was  far  away,  this  God  in  whom  her  heart  believed, 
yet  near  at  hand.  He  would  understand  her  heart; 
He  would  know  her  pressing  need. 

She  could  not  die  first!    She  could  not  leave  her  boy! 

Slowly  she  arose,  her  limbs  already  cramped  with 
the  cold.  Tenderly  she  carried  her  burden  to  a  little 
distance  and  deposited  it  on  the  bare  ground,  where 
the  benumbing  stroke  of  the  canyon  breeze  would 
fall  most  heavily  upon  it. 

She  was  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  did;  she 
seepied  to  be  obeying  some  imperative  necessity.  She 
put  upon  him  no  covering,  she  simply  laid  him  down. 
A  sleepy  remonstrance  at  his  hard  cold  bed  came  from 
his  lips,  and  then  he  lay  perfectly  quiet.  One  hand 
was  stretched  out  toward  her,  and  it  looked  pitifully 
white  and  frail  against  the  hard,  black  rock. 

Again  and  again  she  tried  to  leave  him  there  and 
return  to  her  former  place,  but  something  held  her. 
There  was  an  awful  solemnity  in  the  scene  around  her 
that  oppressed  her  terribly. 

Her  body  seemed  full  of  fever,  and  yet  she  felt  the 
intensity  of  the  cold.  Steadily,  but  without  violence, 
the  wind  came  down  from  the  upper  spaces.  How 
long  she  stood  there  she  could  not  tell,  it  may  have 
been  but  a  few  moments,  but  an  eternity  seemed  to  be 
crowded  into  them.  She  must  go  away  and  leave 
him!  She  could  not  wait  and  see  him  die!  And  yet 
that  little  hand,  stretched  out  upon  the  cold  rock,  so 

369 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

pitifully  small  and  white  and  weak,  held  her  firmly. 
She  half  turned  away,  but  her  eyes  remained  fixed 
upon  him.  How  quietly  he  lay!  He  had  scarcely 
moved  since  she  had  put  him  down!  She  could  see 
him  quite  well  in  the  dim  starlight;  she  tried  to  think 
how  long  it  would  take  for  the  cold  to  do  its  work; 
but  she  could  not  think.  She  was  listening  intently 
for  his  breathing.  A  terrible  fear  of  the  results  of  her 
own  act  was  growing  in  her  heart.  It  terrified  her  that 
he  lay  so  still  before  her.  Could  he  be  dead  already? 
She  turned  about  quickly,  as  the  wild  thought  came, 
and  knelt  down  beside  him;  she  took  his  hand  in  her 
own,  it  was  cold  to  her  feverish  touch.  Her  heart 
stood  still  in  awful  dread,  and  then  she  caught  him 
convulsively  into  her  arms.  He  opened  his  eyes, 
frightened  at  her  unthinking  roughness,  and  began  to 
cry  out.  She  held  him  close  and  kissed  him  again  and 
again. 

"Thank  God!  Thank  God!  Oh,  my  darling,"  she 
sobbed;  he  put  his  arms  about  her  and  snuggled  close. 

"Put  me  to  bed,  mamma;  I'z  so  cold  and  sleepy, 
mamma." 

"Yes,  darling,  we  will  go  back;  I  cannot  do  it,  it  is 
too  cruel.   God  forgive  me  and  help  me  to  bear  it  all." 


370 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

MAGGIE'S   INTERFERENCE 

Maggie  had  witnessed  the  scene  that  occurred  in  the 
camp,  and  her  generous  heart  was  aroused  to  fierce 
indignation.  She  did  not  know  all  that  it  meant  to 
Carissa,  but  she  knew  enough  to  realize  that  Carissa 
had  been  grossly  affronted  and  was  sorely  wounded. 

She  stood  before  the  door  of  their  tent  and  watched, 
while  Carissa  climbed  the  slope  toward  the  east,  hold- 
ing Moroni  tightly  by  the  hand.  Her  first  impulse 
was  to  follow  them,  but  she  thought:  "She'll  soon  be 
back,  and  she  wants  to  be  alone  now.  Poor  thing?  I 
wonder  why  it  hurt  her  so?  She  usually  pays  no 
attention  to  anything  like  that." 

Her  indignation  led  her  to  go  straight  to  the  three 
women,  who  were  laughing  and  talking  over  the  lesson 
which  they  had  taught  the  proud  Englishwoman. 

"What  did  you  say  to  her  to  make  her  look  like 
that?"  Maggie  demanded  fiercely. 

"Let  her  keep  her  kid  to  herself  if  she  thinks  he's 
too  good  for  the  likes  of  us,  "was  the  reply  from  the 
oldest  of  the  three.  "We're  tired  of  her  airs,  that's 
all.     She's  too  high  and  mighty,  and  I  told  her  so." 

"You  needn't  toady  under  and  take  her  part,"  put 
in  another,  mockingly.  "You're  nothing  but  dirt  to 
her  yourself,  and  you're  a  fool  if  you  don't  see  it." 

"Brother  Carson  says  she's  jealous  of  you,  and 
caught  one  of  those  soldier  chaps  for  a  beau,  so's  to 
get  even,"  said  the  first  speaker,  maliciously.    "So  she 

371 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

needn't  pretend  she's  too  good  to  associate  with  hon- 
est folks." 

"It's  a  lie,  I  tell  you,  no  matter  who  says  it," 
declared  Maggie,  hotly,  "and  you're  nothing  but  a  set 
of  contemptible  cowards  to  pitch  onto  a  poor  woman 
that's  better  than  all  of  us  put  together." 

"Why  didn't  Brother  Brand  come  along  out  with  ye 
then,  if  it's  all  a  lie,  instead  of  going  back  to  attend  to 
particular  personal  business?"  sneered  the  other. 

"You  tell  if  you  know,"  retorted  Maggie.  She  often 
thought  of  the  scene  on  the  road  and  wondered  what 
it  really  meant.  So  now  even  her  anger  gave  place  a 
little  to  her  curiosity. 

"He  went  back,  I  guess,  to  square  things  with  the 
fellow  that  has  been  poachin'  on  his  preserves,  and 
that's  what  she's  a-frettin'  about.  If  you  don't 
believe  it,  ask  Brother  Carson." 

This  answer  fitted  the  case  so  perfectly  and  explained 
so  much,  that  Maggie  was  almost  inclined  to  believe 
there  was  some  truth  in  it,  but  she  only  shook  her 
head  defiantly,  and  said: 

"I  don't  care  what  she's  done,  or  what  Brother 
Brand  thinks  she's  done.  I  know  she's  done  nothing 
but  what's  right.  She's  done  you  no  harm  anyway, 
and  when  she  comes  back  you  just  let  her  alone,  or 
I'll  know  why." 

A  derisive  laugh  greeted  this  challenge  and  followed 
Maggie  as  she  walked  away.  Perhaps  she  had  done 
no  good,  but  she  had  given  vent  to  her  feelings  at  any 
rate.  She  was  glad  that  she  had  openly  taken  Carissa's 
part  and  had  flung  down  the  gage  in  her  behalf,  and 
her  natural  woman's  sympathy  was  still  more  deeply 
aroused  by  the  story  she  had  heard. 

372 


MAGGIE'S     INTERFERENCE 

All  through  the  afternoon  she  watched  for  Carissa's 
return  in  vain,  and  about  sun-down  she  became 
uneasy,  and  decided  to  go  and  meet  them.  Throwing 
a  shawl  over  her  shoulders  she  started  up  the  Bench. 

When  she  reached  the  top,  the  view  was  unob- 
structed to  the  canyon's  mouth,  and  as  they  were 
nowhere  in  sight  she  pushed  vigorously  onward.  A 
growing  sense  of  wonder,  not  unmixed  with  alarm, 
hurried  her  steps.  She  thought  they  must  have  taken 
the  way  to  the  canyon,  but  in  that  case  it  would  be 
dark  before  they  could  return.  When  she  reached  the 
sharp  bend  where  the  stream  came  leaping  wildly 
down,  and  still  had  not  met  them,  she  was  almost  per- 
suaded that  they  must  have  gone  in  some  other 
direction. 

She  stopped  and  called  loudly,  but  only  an  empty 
echo  came  back  to  her.  Suddenly  her  eyes  caught 
sight  of  tiny  footprints  in  the  rough  road  that  led 
upward  along  the  stream. 

"What  ever  possessed  her!"  she  exclaimed  to  her- 
self, but  her  shrewd  mind  soon  shaped  an  answer  that 
was  not  far  from  the  truth. 

"She's  unhappy  and  lonely  and  desperate.  I've  seen 
it,  and  haven't  known  what  to  do,  but  when  I  find  her 
I'll  let  her  know  that  Fm  not  against  her,  anyway," 
she  thought. 

The  semi-darkness  of  a  star-lit  night  found  her  still 
following  the  trail,  hot  and  dusty  with  her  quick 
climb,  but  determined  to  overtake  the  fugitives  as 
soon  as  possible.  She  was  fully  a  mile  from  the  mouth 
of  the  canyon  and  could  no  longer  discern  their  foot- 
prints, but  she  knew  that  she  had  not  missed  them. 

There  was  only  one  path,  and  that  wound  its  narrow 

373 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

way  between  a  steep  wall  of  broken,  jagged  rock  and 
the  bank  of  the  turbulent  river.  She  marveled  that 
they  had  gone  so  far,  and  began  to  entertain  a  fearful 
suspicion  of  the  deep  stream  rushing  past,  when  she 
suddenly  saw  them.  Carissa  was  coming  toward  her, 
her  white  face  showing  with  startling  distinctness 
under  the  starlight.  She  was  carrying  Moroni  and 
was  sobbing  hysterically  under  her  breath,  and  almost 
fainting  from  exhaustion. 

"You  poor  darling,  you,"  exclaimed  Maggie,  rush- 
ing forward  and  putting  her  arms  about  her.  She 
gently  lowered  the  overwrought,  quivering  form  to  the 
ground,  took  Moroni  from  her,  wrapped  him  warmly 
in  her  shawl  and  turned  again  to  Carissa. 

"How  cold  you  are!  You  mustn't  stay  here;  let  me 
warm  you  a  bit."  She  vigorously  chafed  the  hands 
and  arms  until  a  feeling  of  warmth  began  to  return. 

"Come,  dear,  you  must  try  to  walk,  it's  awful  cold 
up  here,  and  you'll  catch  your  death.  I'll  carry 
Moroni  and  you  must  lean  on  me." 

She  took  the  shawl  and  put  it  about  Carissa's 
shoulders,  who  obeyed  her  as  simply  as  a  child. 

When  at  last  they  reached  the  tent,  and  Carissa  had 
been  put  between  warm  blankets,  and  plied  with  hot 
drinks,  and  rubbed  until  the  quaking  had  gone  from 
her  limbs,  and  the  hysterical  sobbing  had  passed  from 
her  throat,  she  reached  up  and  put  her  arms  about 
Maggie's  neck. 

"You  are  so  good,"  she  whispered,  "and  I  have 
been  so  wicked."  She  let  her  hand  fall  wearily  upon 
the  form  of  Moroni,  who  was  sleeping  sweetly  at  her 
side. 

"Nonsense,"    said    Maggie   brusquely,    though   her 

374 


MAGGIE'S      INTERFERENCE 


face  was  flushed  with  happiness;  then  bending  over 
and  kissing  her  she  said,  while  the  tears  came  to  her 
eyes,  "You  are  different  from  the  rest  of  us,  and  bet- 
ter I  know;  so  much  better!  I  wish  you  would  teach 
me  to  be  like  you." 

During  the  following  days  a  curious  relationship 
grew  up  between  these  two  women,  married  to  one 
man.  Maggie  had  never  lost  her  old  feeling  of  social 
respect  for  Carissa  as  her  superior,  but  there  came  to 
be  added  a  peculiar  mingling  of  pity  and  self-reproach. 
Carissa  was  impelled  to  open  her  heart  to  this  sympa- 
thetic, impulsive  girl,  who  waited  on  her  so  tenderly 
and  lavished  such  love  upon  her,  and  she  found  a  won- 
derful relief  in  doing  so.  She  even  told  her,  in  broken 
sentences  and  falteringly,  of  the  terrible  disillusion- 
ment that  had  come  with  reference  to  her  husband,  and 
of  her  intense  longing  to  be  set  free  from  it  all. 

Maggie  did  not  altogether  understand,  but  where 
she  failed  to  do  so  she  mentally  charged  it  to  her  own 
deficiency  and  was  silent.  She  gave  freely  of  her 
sympathy,  and  often  wept  even  when  Carissa' s  eyes 
were  dry,  and  she  sought  by  every  means  to  kindle  hope 
and  impart  comfort. 

"I'm  happy  here,"  she  frankly  confessed.  "It's  all 
turned  out  so  much  better  for  me  than  I  had  thought; 
but  I  see  it's  different  with  you."  She  was  silent  for  a 
moment  and  then  said,  impulsively:  "There's  one 
thing — we'll  keep  this  place  to  ourselves  when  he 
comes.  I'll  see  to  that  myself.  He  can  stay  with  the 
men  till  the  house  is  built." 

Carissa  pressed  her  hand  in  mute  thankfulness  at  the 
relief  this  assurance  brought 

Neither    of   them    spoke    of    Osborne,    but    Maggie 

375 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

determined  to  find  out  what  Brand's  errand  to  the 
city  was,  and  also  its  outcome. 

When  Brand  finally  joined  the  little  band  of  squat- 
ters, he  brought  with  him  a  load  of  furniture,  together 
with  tools  and  materials  for  house-building.  His 
manner  was  surly  and  disagreeable.  His  arm,  which 
still  pained  him,  he  carried  in  a  sling.  Nor  was  he  as 
particular  about  his  personal  appearance  as  in  former 
days.  This  fact  was  apparent  even  to  Maggie.  He 
had  begun  to  let  his  beard  grow  in  the  fashion  of  the 
pioneers  of  that  day,  and  about  his  brow  and  eyes  were 
the  marks  of  the  evil  passions  he  had  indulged  so 
freely.  After  a  few  short  words  of  greeting  to  Carson, 
he  was  about  to  make  his  way  into  the  tent,  but  Mag- 
gie stopped  him. 

"She  has  been  very  sick  and  is  sleeping,  don't 
disturb  her,"  she  said. 

"Who?     Carissa?" 

"Yes.  Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me?"  asked  Maggie, 
coquettishly. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  kissed  her  rather  indiffer- 
ently, and  then  stood  with  knitted  brows  as  though 
debating  some  question.  Maggie  watched  him,  a 
little  hurt  at  his  manner,  but  over  all  a  look  of  confi- 
dence on  her  face.  Presently  he  turned  about  and 
walked  away. 

Later  in  the  day  Maggie  found  him  returning  from 
an  inspection  of  the  corral. 

"I  wish  you  would  hurry  and  have  the  house  built," 
she  said,  smiling  at  him  in  a  winning  way.  "Then 
the  rest  can  have  it  to  themselves  and  we  can  take  the 
tent.     Don't  you  want  to?" 

She  had  arranged  her  dress  with  an  eye  to  please 

376 


MAGGIE'S     INTERFERENCE 

him,  and  now  as  she  spoke  she  raised  her  arm,  so 
that  the  sleeve  fell  back,  revealing  its  perfect  con- 
tour. 

Something  in  his  look  showed  her  that  she  still 
retained  her  old  power  over  him,  and  she  determined 
to  use  it,  both  to  hold  him  for  herself  and  to  protect 
Carissa. 

He  made  her  no  direct  answer,  but  studied  her  face 
a  little  curiously. 

"Maggie,"  he  finally  asked,  "what  would  you  say  if 
I  should  tell  you  that  I  think  of  taking  another  wife, 
perhaps  two?" 

She  winced  at  his  words,  but  looked  up  at  him  with 
a  show  of  defiant  confidence. 

"You  can  take  as  many  as  you  please  for  all  I  care," 
she  said,  stepping  close  to  him.  "But  I  have  my  own 
place,  and  I  defy  anybody  to  rob  me  of  it." 

She  lifted  her  hands  to  his  shoulders,  and  he  stooped 
and  kissed  her  warmly. 

"When  is  it  to  be?"  she  asked  presently,  drawing 
back  a  little. 

"I  don't  know.  I'm  in  no  hurry,  but  Brother  Brig- 
ham  urges  it.  A  good  many  new  arrivals  have  not 
been  provided  for  yet,  and  he  says  I  can  afford  it  and 
ought  to  set  the  example."  His  seeming  indifference 
comforted  her,  and  she  smiled  happily  as  he  con- 
tinued: "You  take  the  matter  in  the  right  spirit, 
Maggie,  and  I'll  see  that  you  don't  suffer  by  it." 

Presently,  however,  she  saw  the  light  fade  away 
from  his  face  and  the  old  shadow  return. 

"I  don't  see  why  she  couldn't  have  taken  it  in  the 
same  way,"  he  said  bitterly,  referring  to  Carissa.  "It 
would  have  saved  all  this  bitterness  and  trouble." 

377 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 


"It's  because  she's  different,"  explained  Maggie, 
eagerly.  "She  was  raised  different,  and  she  doesn't 
believe  in  it,  and  then  she  has  so  much  imagination." 

"Damn  her  imagination!  Was  it  her  imagination 
that  led  her  to  take  up  with  that  damned  lieutenant  in 
the  city?  and  to  plan  to  leave  the  country  with  him? 
I've  got  something  to  say  to  her  about  that."  Brand's 
lips  were  twitching  and  his  fist  was  clenched. 

"Do  you  care  more  for  her  than  you  do  for  me?" 

The  soft  pleading  of  her  tone  and  glance  drew  from 
him  the  answer:  "No,  but  she  must  be  made  to  do 
her  duty." 

She  suddenly  drew  close  to  him  again  and  asked, 
almost  in  a  whisper:  "What  did  you  do  to  this 
soldier?" 

"I  shot  him,  as  he  deserved  to  be  shot,"  replied 
Brand,  fiercely,  "but  the  devil  protects  his  own.  I 
didn't  kill  him.      He  got  away  to  California." 

Maggie  was  exultant  at  the  good  news  which  she 
could  carry  to  Carissa,  but  she  had  another  point  to 
gain.  She  dropped  her  eyes,  and  then,  slowly  raising 
them  again  with  a  look  of  coy  beseeching,  said:  "Will 
you  do  something  for  me  that  I  want  you  to  do  very 
much?"  There  was  an  assumed  timidity  about  her 
manner  that  charmed  him. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"Don't  talk  about  any  of  this  to  her.  What's  the 
use?  When  you  see  her,  you'll  know  that  she's  been 
punished  enough.  And  I  do  so  want  this  to  be  a 
happy  summer!" 

He  looked  at  her  frowningly.  He  had  determined 
to  come  to  a  definite  understanding  with  Carissa.  It 
was    unendurable    that   she   should    continue   to  defy 

378 


MAGGIE'S     INTERFERENCE 

him.  And  then,  too,  this  Osborne  affair  was  one  that 
he  could  not  afford  to  overlook. 

"I  don't  allow  any  wife  of  mine  the  luxury  of  a 
lover,"  he  said,  grimly. 

"Nonsense,  dear,"  laughed  Maggie,  "he  was  no 
lover.  She  might  have  fancied  he  could  help  her  to 
get  away.     That  was  all." 

"All!     And  isn't  that  bad  enough?"  roared  Brand. 

"You  can  punish  her  by  treating  her  coldly.  You 
can  leave  her  to  herself,"  said  Maggie.  "Let  us,  you 
and  me,  be  together  while  we  can  and  be  happy.  It 
would  be  so  easy  to  destroy  our  happiness.  Will  you 
do  this  for  me?  You  know  that  I  would  do  anything 
for  you." 

She  saw  that  he  wavered.  He  was  not  generous 
enough  to  give  the  promise,  but  she  believed  that  she 
had  won  the  day,  and  she  was  confident  that  she  would 
be  able  to  play  her  part  well  enough  to  secure  for 
Carissa  freedom  from  intrusion  at  least,  even  if  no 
other  freedom  could  be  won  for  her. 

It  was  natural  that  Carissa  should  feel  great  relief  at 
the  cheering  news  which  Maggie  hastened  to  tell  her. 
She  could  see  no  outlook  for  the  future,  but  she 
devoted  herself  as  bravely  as  she  could  to  the  neces- 
sary duties  of  the  dreary,  hopeless  present.  Brand 
usually  avoided  her,  and  when  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  speak  to  her,  he  did  so  with  studied  and  sullen 
indifference.  Since  his  coming,  there  was  a  partial 
return  to  her  old  relations  with  Maggie;  there  was  no 
recurrence  of  the  confidential  talks  that  had  passed 
between  them,  though  each  was  conscious  of  an  under- 
current of  sympathetic  understanding,  that  perhaps 
grew  the  deeper  because  it  was  unexpressed  in  words. 

379 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

During  these  summer  months  Carissa  lavished  all 
the  pent-up  stores  of  her  love  and  devotion  upon 
IMoroni.  She  was  never  separated  from  him.  She 
would  sit  and  watch  him  for  hours  as  he  was  about  his 
play,  and  whenever  Brand  approached  him  she  would 
catch  her  breath  in  quick,  unreasoning  jealousy  and 
alarm.  The  little  fellow  seemed  to  acquire  an  under- 
standing of  her  moods,  and  would  run  and  stand  at  her 
side,  sturdily  on  the  defensive  at  the  approach  of  all 
except  Maggie  for  whom  he  developed  a  great  liking. 

Brand  noticed  this,  and  it  stung  him  intolerably. 
One  day  when  Moroni  had  evaded  his  caresses  and 
had  run  as  usual  to  Carissa,  Brand  faced  about  sharply, 
while  a  dull  flash  of  anger  darkened  his  face. 

"Have  a  care,"  he  said  threateningly,  "how  you 
teach  that  boy  to  hate  his  father  and  despise  his 
birthright." 

"Go  and  speak  to  your  father,  Moroni,"  said 
Carissa  tremulously,  and  with  dry  lips,  but  Brand 
turned  round  and  walked  heavily  away. 

From  this  time  he  seemed  to  include  Moroni  in  his 
general  attitude  of  surly  indifference. 


380 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

ALONE 

When  fall  came  the  house  had  long  been  completed, 
and  Carissa  made  a  request,  as  Brand  and  Maggie 
were  talking  of  going  to  the  city. 

"Let  me  stay  here  with  Moroni,"  she  said. 

Brand  looked  at  her  suspiciously.  There  was  a  pit- 
iful eagerness  in  her  voice.  How  intensely  she  longed 
to  be  alone! 

"What  new  nonsense  is  this?"  said  Brand,  with  slow 
contempt.  "You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

W'hen  they  were  alone  together  again,  IMaggie  asked 
Carissa:  "Why  do  you  want  to  stay?  Don't  you  see 
how  impossible  it  is?  You  would  be  all  alone,  and  the 
winters  here  are  frightful." 

"But  the  sheep-herders  will  be  in  the  neighborhood; 
and  oh,  ]\Iaggie,  I  shall  die  if  I  cannot  be  alone.  This 
life  is  killing  me,  and  I  cannot  go  back  with  him." 

Maggie's  sympathies  were  easily  enlisted  and  she 
soon  set  about  the  task  of  securing  Brand's  permission. 

At  first  Brand  would  not  listen,  but  ]\Iaggie  was  a 
persistent  and  resourceful  pleader,  and  at  length  partly 
impelled  by  the  sullen  reflection  that  perhaps  the 
experience  might  bring  her  to  her  senses,  Brand  con- 
sented. And  the  first  snow  found  Carissa  and  ]\Ioroni 
alone  together  in  their  cabin. 

Then  it  was  that  Carissa  seemed  to  return  somewhat 
to  her  old  self.  The  sweeping  of  the  wind  down  from 
the  canyon;  the  icy  breath  of  the  storm;  the  heaping 

381 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

of  the  snow  around  their  dwelling,  drift  upon  drift;  the 
necessity  of  clearing  a  path  from  the  house  to  the 
stream,  of  breaking  the  ice  for  water,  or  of  gathering 
heaps  of  snow  for  melting;  the  short  days  full  of 
employment;  the  long  evenings  by  the  crackling  wood 
fire;  the  return  of  childhood's  dreamless  slumbers, 
were  all  as  delightful  and  as  health-inspiring  for  her  as 
for  the  boy. 

She  drifted  into  a  forgetfulness  of  the  past,  and 
seemed  sometimes  to  herself,  to  be  as  much  an  essen- 
tial part  of  her  wild  surroundings  as  the  mountains 
that  had  lifted  their  heads  against  the  storms  for  ages 
past.  She  read  to  Moroni  and  talked  to  him — talked 
about  her  own  childhood  and  told  him  stories  of  great 
deeds  and  noble  men. 

She  was  really  severe  with  him  but  once,  and  that 
was  when  he  had  attempted  to  deceive  her  about  some 
trifling  thing. 

In  after  years  he  never  forgot  the  scene  that  fol- 
lowed. The  tragedy  of  her  glance,  as  she  raised  her 
hand  to  strike  him;  the  awful  pallor  of  her  face  and 
the  quick  lapse  to  hysterical  weeping,  as  he  clasped 
her  knees,  in  childish  terror  of  her  strange  anger,  were 
printed  indelibly  upon  his  mind.  It  was  long  before 
she  was  quieted;  and  then  with  suppressed  passion,  she 
told  him  that  deceit  had  ruined  her  life;  that  she 
would  rather  cast  him  out  into  the  snow  to  perish  by 
the  wolves  that  snarled  at  night,  and  never  to  see  him 
again,  than  ever  to  have  him  guilty  of  a  lie  or  the 
slightest  deceitful  practice.  For  days  there  was  a 
haunting  look  in  her  eyes;  and  he  only  learned  to 
drive  it  away  by  going  to  her  and  lisping,  "Roni  '11 
never  tell  a  lie.     Roni  '11  never  'ceive  you,  mamma." 

382 


ALONE 

When  spring  came,  the  mountain  streams  were  full; 
and  mother  and  child  penetrated  far  up  the  canyon, 
gathering  moss  and  spring  flowers  and  delighting  in 
the  leap  of  the  foaming  water  as  it  dashed  downward 
over  its  rocky  bed. 

One  day  in  the  month  of  April  when  they  returned 
from  their  excursion,  they  found  that  Brand  and  Mag- 
gie had  arrived;  and  Carissa  felt  the  old  constraint 
descend  upon  her  like  a  thick,  smothering  garment. 

Maggie  brought  with  her  a  baby  about  three  months 
old,  and  Moroni  was  delighted  with  this  new  and  won- 
derful toy.  He  called  to  his  mamma  to  come  and 
look;  and  pointed  delightedly  to  her  tiny  features  and 
thick  black  curling  hair.  Carissa  sought  to  be  self- 
possessed,  but  it  was  difficult  for  her  to  return,  even 
indifferently,  her  husband's  greeting. 

A  change  seemed  to  have  come  over  him  during 
these  winter  months,  his  former  sullen  temper  seemed 
in  a  measure  abated,  but  he  made  no  effort  to  regain 
his  hold  upon  Carissa. 

He  took  Moroni  with  him  on  various  journeys  into 
the  surrounding  country,  and  almost  won  the  little  fel- 
low by  speaking  kindly  of  his  mother,  and  by  his 
counsel  to  love  her  and  be  obedient  to  her  word;  but 
with  her  he  was  invariably  reserved. 

Before  returning  to  the  city  again,  however.  Brand 
asked  for  an  interview  with  Carissa,  and  what  followed 
made  an  indelible  impression  upon  her. 

"Do  you  care  to  return  to  the  city  again  this  fall?" 
he  asked. 

"No,  no.     I  cannot,"  she  answered  gently. 

"I  do  not  urge  it  now,"  he  answered,  frowning  a 
little,  "but  you  must  remember  that  Moroni  must  soon 

383 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

enter  the  church  schools.  You  have  chosen  your  own 
way;  I  propose  to  let  you  walk  in  it.  I  have  also  per- 
mitted you  the  care  of  Moroni,  but  the  time  is 
approaching  when  he  must  be  taught  the  faith  that  you 
have  rejected." 

"Oh,  no.     Do  not  say  that,"  she  implored. 

"Carissa,  listen  to  me.  I  have  been  charged  with 
folly  and  weakness  for  letting  him  remain  with  you  a 
moment.  I  have  been  looked  upon  with  suspicion  for 
tolerating  your  rebellion.  Children  have  been  taken 
from  their  mothers  for  less  faults  than  you  have 
shown.  I  will  bear  with  you  as  long  as  possible,  but 
you  must  beware  how  you  poison  the  mind  of  that 
child  against  the  faith  that  shall  be  hisy 

As  he  spoke.  Brand's  voice  was  firm  and  his  man- 
ner controlled.  Carissa  could  find  no  further  words  of 
remonstrance,  but  her  heart  was  steeled  to  desperate 
resistance  whenever  the  time  should  come. 

"I  do  not  expect  you  to  think  kindly  of  me,"  he 
said,  rising  from  his  seat,  "but  has  it  ever  occurred  to 
you  that  all  that  has  come  between  us,  has  come 
because  you  hardened  your  heart  against  the  voice  of 
God?  I  will  own  that  I  was  angered  and  embittered 
last  year,  but  you  know  the  reason."  There  was  a  sin- 
gular mingling  of  sternness  and  tenderness  in  his 
voice.  But  Carissa  felt  all  her  old  feeling  of  hardness 
return  as  he  touched  upon  the  past. 

"You  made  friends  with  our  ancient  enemies;  those 
who  drove  us  from  our  homes  in  the  past,  and  who 
would  utterly  destroy  us  if  they  had  the  power;  you 
have  forgotten  your  duty,  and " 

"Stop,"  cried  Carissa.  "what  do  you  expect  to  gain 

by  this?" 

384 


ALONE 

"I  have  tried  to  forget  all  that,"  he  went  on,  "but 
you  do  not  forget.  I  hoped  that  these  months  of  soli- 
tude would  make  some  impression  upon  you.  Do  you 
realize  what  kind  of  life  you  are  shaping  for  yourself?" 

Carissa  was  silent,  she  was  struggling  with  the 
impulse  to  declare  once  more  her  bitter  hatred  of  the 
cruel  system  that  held  her  helpless  in  its  meshes. 

"I  did  not  intend  to  say  this  to  you,"  continued 
Brand,  "but  I  now  urge  you  to  think  of  the  long  dreary 
years  that  lie  before  you,  the  utterly  wasted  life  that 
will  be  yours  unless  you  are  reasonable.  You  must  be 
part  of  the  system,  or  the  system  will  most  assuredly 
crush  you  to  powder!" 

It  was  long  after  his  departure  before  Carissa  ceased 
to  feel  the  sickening  sensation  that  his  words  had 
caused. 

During  this  summer  and  fall  Brigham  decided  to  put 
in  operation  his  famous,  or  infamous,  "handcart  exper- 
iment." It  was  asserted  that  the  idea  came  by 
inspiration  from  the  Almighty,  but  it  resulted  in  the 
death  of  hundreds  of  deluded  pilgrims  by  starvation 
and  exposure,  as  well  as  in  the  maiming  and  crippling 
of  hundreds  more.  There  are  still  those  in  Utah  who 
retain  vivid  recollections  of  the  terrible  privations  and 
sufferings  of  thousands  of  men,  women  and  children, 
as  they  pushed  their  loaded  handcarts  before  them  over 
the  dusty  plains,  fording  the  rivers,  climbing  the  moun- 
tains, facing  every  peril,  enduring  every  hardship,  lured 
by  the  hope  of  seeing,  before  death  should  overtake 
them,  the  glory  of  the  heavenly  Zion  upon  earth. 
Before  the  plan  was  fully  executed,  Brigham  heartily 
repented  of  his  "inspiration,"  and  at  a  late  hour  did 
all  that  he  could  to  avert  its  tragic  results.    But  at  this 

385 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

early  springtime,  there  was  nothing  but  unbounded 
enthusiasm  manifested  concerning  it. 

Brand  was  ordered  to  go  to  Winter  Quarters  in  com- 
pany with  other  Elders,  to  organize  the  pilgrims  into 
companies,  and  lead  them  on  the  march.  This  kept 
him  fully  occupied  until  late  in  October. 

During  the  summer  a  large  company  of  settlers 
made  their  appearance  at  the  lower  end  of  the  valley, 
and  Carson  reported  that  they  were  laying  out  a  town 
under  Brigham's  orders.  Not  much  was  accomplished, 
however,  till  the  snows  set  in.  Brand  returned  in  time 
to  spend  about  a  week  in  Cache  Valley,  before  taking 
Maggie  with  him  again  to  the  city  for  the  winter. 

As  Carissa  watched  them  disappear,  and  realized  that 
for  several  months  she  would  have  her  boy  to  herself 
again,  she  again  felt  the  rush  of  life  and  its  enjoyment 
return  to  her.  With  something  of  the  old  zest  she 
sought  to  lose  herself  by  becoming  absorbed  in  the 
moods  of  nature. 

The  winter  was  unusually  severe,  but  mother  and 
child  felt  no  hardship.  The  cold  at  times  was 
intense,  but  they  challenged  it  bravely  by  cramming 
the  spacious  fireplace  with  logs  of  resinous  pine  that 
had  been  brought  from  the  canyon  and  stored  for  win- 
ter use.  One  stormy  night  they  received  a  half-frozen 
wanderer  from  the  settlement  below,  who  had  been 
bewildered  by  the  snow  and  had  lost  his  way,  and  who 
would  have  perished  but  for  the  beacon  light  that 
shone  through  their  cabin  window.  After  he  had  been 
made  comfortable,  he  rewarded  their  hospitality  by 
telling  them  of  news  which  had  been  received,  of  a 
great  reformation  that  was  being  preached  by  Brigham 
and  his  counsellors,  Grant  and  Kimball. 


ALONE 

Carissa  gathered  that  the  people  were  everywhere 
publicly  confessing  their  sins  amid  the  wildest  excite- 
ment; that  thousands  of  them  were  being  re-baptized; 
and  that  many  who  had  heretofore  refused  to  enter 
polygamy  had  now  consented.  This  was  the  one  thing 
that  was  accepted  as  evidence  of  perfect  consecration 
on  the  part  of  the  people,  and  this,  with  the  loyal  pay- 
ing of  tithes  into  the  Lord's  treasury,  was  preached  as 
"living  their  religion." 

"They  do  say  that  Brother  Brigham  himself  has 
added  several  girls  to  his  own  family,  and  that 
Brother  Brand,  your  man,  has  taken  two  more." 

It  was  a  sickening  revelation,  but  the  dominant 
impression  in  her  mind  was  one  of  surprise  at  her  own 
indifference.     There  might  as  well  be  a  dozen  as  only 

two! 

"I  think  I  shall  take  a  couple  more  myself,"  the 
visitor  continued  with  an  air  of  self-importance. 
"I've  taken  up  two  hundred  acres  of  this  here  bottom 
land,  and  I'll  need  more  help  in  the  spring  to  work  it; 
besides,  I  feel  that  it's  my  religious  duty." 

The  storm  was  too  severe  for  him  to  leave  before 
morning,  and  long  after  he  had  gone  the  memory  of 
his  presence  seemed  to  pollute  the  house. 

With  the  spring  Maggie  came  with  her  baby  now 
a  chubby,  hearty,  happy,  year-old  girl.  Carissa  was 
immeasurably  relieved  that  Brand  did  not  appear. 
She  learned  from  Maggie,  who  treated  the  matter 
with  an  assumption  of  cool  indifference,  that  the 
report  brought  to  her  in  the  winter  was  true.  Her 
husband  was  now  the  husband  of  a  full  quartette. 
When  she  thought  of  it  she  was  disgusted  with  herself, 
that  she  had  ever  loved  him.     She  felt  sometimes  that 

387 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

the  one  condition  of  happiness  would  be  to  have  him 
drop  out  of  her  life  utterly. 

Maggie  brought  word  that  he  could  not  come  to 
them  until  the  middle  of  summer. 

How  the  weary  days  dragged  on  in  spite  of  this 
relief.  Was  this  to  be  her  life?  She  sometimes  felt  a 
deadly  weakness  stealing  over  her  as  she  watched 
Moroni  and  his  little  "cousin"  at  play. 

What  a  tragedy  life  had  become!  And  these  two 
little  innocents  must  grow  up  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
wickedness,  be  corrupted  by  it,  their  entire  natures  be 
changed  by  it,  and  they  must  die  without  realizing  any 
higher  ideal.  The  thought  sometimes  maddened  her, 
sometimes  overpowered  her.  Maggie's  cheerfulness, 
spontaneous  though  it  was,  seemed  affected  and 
strangely  out  of  place. 

About  the  first  of  August,  Carson,  who  had  been  to 
the  city  to  be  present  at  the  exercises  on  Pioneer 
Day,  returned  with  stirring  tidings.  The  anniversary 
celebration  had  been  held  at  Big  Cottonwood,  and 
during  its  progress,  word  had  been  brought  that  a 
United  States  army  was  on  its  way  to  Utah.  Brigham 
had  declared  war,  had  prophesied  that  the  army  would 
not  be  permitted  to  enter  the  valley,  and  had  ordered 
the  citizens  to  prepare  for  defence.  Brand  would  be 
fully  occupied  till  the  trouble  was  past,  and  Carson 
was  instructed  to  bring  Carissa  with  Maggie  and  the 
children  on  his  return. 

"I  shall  stay  here  with  Moroni,"  Carissa  said  firmly. 

"But  Brother  Brand's  orders  were  positive,"  insisted 
Carson. 

"It  makes  no  difference,  I  shall  not  go,"  she 
declared  positively. 

388 


A     L     O     X     E 

]\Iaggie  was  reluctant  to  leave  her,  she  seemed  so 
frail  and  feeble.  She  could  see  now  how  terribly  she 
had  failed  during  the  past  two  years.  But  when  she 
spoke  of  staying  with  her,  Carissa  said,  "You  should 
go,  dear.  Obedi  mce  is  right  for  you.  Moroni  will 
take  care  of  mamma,  won't  you,  my  boy?" 

"I  will  never  leave  you,  mamma,  or  let  anyone  hurt 
you,"  he  said  loyally,  taking  her  hand  in  his  and 
looking  up  at  her  in  resolute  gravity. 

"But  won't  you  come  with  us?"  urged  ]\laggie.  "It 
seems  so  desolate  for  you  here,  and  you  are  not  as 
strong  as  you  were." 

"No,  I  shall  stay.  I  can  breathe  here,  when  the 
snow  comes  down  and  blocks  the  passes,  and  all  the 
world  is  shut  out." 

After  Maggie's  departure,  Carissa  lived  as  in  a 
troubled  dream.  She  tried  to  regain  her  old  sense  of 
liberty,  but  it  came  in  glimpses,  only  to  mock  the 
weakness  that  would  not  permit  her  to  embrace  it. 
She  persuaded  herself  that  she  was  waiting  only  for  the 
breath  of  winter.  The  long  days  of  Indian  Summer 
seemed  .interminable.  She  performed  the  ordinary 
and  necessary  duties  of  the  household,  but  she  per- 
formed them  mechanically.  Moroni,  sturdy,  quick  and 
eager,  moved  about  with  her;  but  in  spite  of  herself 
her  thoughts  would  wander  back  over  the  bitter  past. 

The  fact  of  the  soldiers  being  in  the  valley  again 
made  her  think  often  of  Osborne.  How  long  ago  it 
seemed  since  he  had  taught  her  to  dream  of  a  possible 
escape,  and  how  terribly  her  fate  had  closed  in  about  her 
since  then!  In  her  weakness  she  began  to  live  those 
dark  days  over  again,  and  to  feel  the  weight  of  shud- 
dering  dread.     Again    and    again,    all    the    sickening 

389 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

details  of  the  hours  of  her  disillusionment  came  before 
her.  She  put  these  thoughts  away  with  all  the  power 
of  her  will,  but  they  returned  again  and  again  with 
harrowing  persistency.  Moroni  observed  her  growing 
sadness,  and  would  leave  his  play  and  come  to  her. 
He  associated  it  with  the  one  tragic  occurrence  in  his 
own  life,  and  would  throw  his  arms  about  her  and  say: 
"Mamma,  you  can  trust  me.  I  will  never  deceive  you, 
or  disobey  you." 

The  childish  appeal  would  break  the  spell,  and,  as 
in  former  days,  she  would  hold  him  closely  in  her 
arms,  and  find  relief  in  a  storm  of  weeping. 

When  at  last  the  snow  began  to  fall,  she  called  to 
Moroni  to  come  and  explore  the  drifts,  and  turned  her 
face  to  the  pelting  storm,  inviting  its  sting.  But  she 
found  that  the  cold  chilled  her,  and  the  exertion 
exhausted  her.  There  was  no  longer  stimulation  in 
the  storm  for  her.  The  disappointment  was  keen. 
Was  there,  then,  to  be  no  relief  from  the  ceaseless 
round  of  enervating,  regretful  thought?  She  began  to 
think  that  death  was  waiting  for  her  with  the  coming 
of  the  spring.  For  herself  she  knew  that  it  would 
bring  glad  release;  but  she  fought  desperately  against 
the  thought  of  relinquishing  the  guardianship  of  her 
boy. 

In  the  meanwhile,  events  of  world-wide  interest  were 
happening  in  other  portions  of  the  territory.  The 
fiendish  crime  at  Mountain  Meadows  was  perpetrated 
in  September,  whereby  one  hundred  and  twenty 
unarmed,  unresisting,  innocent  and  inoffensive  men, 
women  and  children  were  butchered  in  cold  blood 
by  Indians  and  white  men,  instigated  and  led  by  mem- 
bers of  the  Mormon  priesthood. 

390 


ALONE 

The  people  at  this  time  were  especially  exasperated 
by  the  attitude  of  the  government.  After  Colonel 
Steptoe's  departure  Brigham  declared  in  the  taber- 
nacle, "I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  say  next  winter  if 
such  men  make  their  appearance  here  as  did  last 
winter.  I  know  what  I  think  I  shall  say;  if  they  play 
the  same  game  again,  so  help  me  God,  we  will  slay 
them." 

And  the  people  endorsed  his  sentiments. 

Brand  was  thoroughly  in  sympathy  with  this  attitude 
of  the  people.  He  seemed  to  have  cast  off  entirely 
the  last  remains  of  Carissa's  influence,  and  to  have 
buried  the  finer  instincts  that  were  originally  a  part  of 
his  nature.  He  was  found  among  those  who  coun- 
selled the  most  extreme  and  violent  measures. 

"If  the  soldiers  enter  the  territory,  let  loose  the 
Indians;  give  them  a  taste  of  savage  warfare  and 
exterminate  them,  root  and  branch,"  he  advised,  and 
for  some  time  Brigham  was  inclined  to  follow  his 
advice. 

But  his  natural  caution,  joined  to  his  knowledge  of 
the  unlimited  resources  of  the  United  States,  deterred 
him  from  so  serious  a  course.  He  trusted  to  turn  back 
the  invading  army  by  threats  and  annoyances,  by 
checking  their  march,  and  by  forcing  them  to  feel  the 
rigors  of  a  harsh  climate,  far  from  their  base  of  sup- 
plies and  in  the  midst  of  a  hostile  country. 

Brand  was  among  the  most  aggressive  of  those  who 
sought  to  make  this  policy  effective  by  building  bar- 
ricades across  Echo  Canyon,  and  hovering  about  the 
enemy,  cutting  off  stragglers  and  supplies,  and  keep- 
ing them  through  the  winter  in  a  constant  state  of  har- 
assing suspense. 

391 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

One  day  in  January,  however,  he  received  news  from 
a  prisoner  who  had  fallen  into  his  hands,  that  caused 
him  to  secure  immediate  release  from  further  duty. 
This  done,  he  mounted  and  rode  furiously  for  the  city. 
There  he  made  a  few  inquiries  of  Brigham  and  others, 
and  without  waiting  to  call  upon  any  of  his  wives, 
secured  a  fresh  horse,  turned  northward,  and  labori- 
ously broke  his  way  over  the  drifted  roads  to  Cache 
Valley. 

The  news  that  had  sent  Brand  upon  his  sudden  jour- 
ney was  that  Captain  Osborne,  a  young  officer  unat- 
tached to  General  Harney's  staff,  had  accompanied  the 
expedition  as  far  as  their  winter  quarters,  but  had  left 
the  command  some  days  before. 

"Where  did  he  go?"  demanded  Brand. 

"The  impression  is  that  he  was  bearer  of  private  let- 
ters to  your  governor,"  was  the  answer,  "but  I  think- 
that  he  had  some  business  of  his  own  to  attend  to." 

On  reaching  Salt  Lake  City,  Brand  learned  that 
Osborne  had  been  there  only  the  day  before,  that  he 
had  remained  but  a  short  time,  had  made  some 
inquiries  concerning  the  road  to  Cache  Valley,  and 
had  gone  almost  immediately  no  one  knew  where. 


392 


CHAPTER  XL 

WHAT  CAME  WITH  THE  STORM 

It  was  a  wild  winter  night  in  lonely  Cache  Valley. 
Always  the  climate  is  more  severe  in  this  region  than 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Great  Salt 
Lake.  The  snow  comes  earlier,  lies  deeper,  and  lin- 
gers longer  in  the  spring.  This  valley  is  little  more 
than  a  long  deep  pocket  in  the  midst  of  a  rough 
mountain  country,  hence  its  name. 

For  days  past  the  snow  had  been  falling  steadily. 
The  narrow  plain  was  covered  with  a  thick  heavy  blanket 
that  obliterated  all  uneven  surfaces,  and  made  the  rude 
dwellings  of  the  settlers,  grouped  together  in  the  dis- 
tance, seem  like  mere  excrescences,  white-capped  but 
blotchy  on  the  landscape.  Up  in  the  canyons  the  snow 
lay  in  great  packed  masses,  smothering  deep  the  brawl 
of  the  streams  that  still  forced  their  way  by  hidden 
channels  down  into  the  valley,  covering  the  tops  of 
the  tallest  pines,  and  leaving  only  the  most  exposed 
rocky  projections  of  the  precipitous  sides,  with  a  com- 
paratively thin  covering  to  drape  their  gaunt  naked- 
ness. 

For  days  the  snow  fell  quietly  and  heavily,  as 
though  the  clouds  were  overburdened,  and  must  of 
necessity  empty  themselves,  but  preferred  to  do  it 
without  fuss  or  confusion  of  any  sort.  Finally  the 
wind  rose,  the  cold  grew  more  intense,  the  snow- 
became  hard  and  icy,  and  was  flung  in  fierce  gusts  into 
the  hollows  and  crevices  of  the  rocks,  or  was  swept  in 

393 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

pitiless  sheets  across  the  valley,  to  storm  upon  the 
opposite  barriers,  or  to  dash  in  fury  against  the  inter- 
cepting walls  built  for  shelter  of  man  or  beast. 

There  was  a  dreary  air  of  wild  desolation  about  this 
scene  as  the  daylight  faded  and  the  gray  shadows 
deepened,  and  the  gathering  night  seemed  composed 
of  the  flying  elements  of  the  storm.  Nature  had  full 
sway,  had  asserted  her  supremacy.  Every  trace  of  the 
work  of  man  was  nearly  obliterated.  The  wilderness 
had  returned  with  its  riot  of  untamed  passion  and 
unrestrained  possession.  Yet  in  this  desert  of  darkness 
and  cold,  there  were  a  few  sheltered  oases  of  warmth 
and  light,  where  cheery  fires  were  burning,  and  family 
groups  vvere  gathered. 

The  few  sturdy  men  who  lived  in  this  valley  were  of 
stern  stuff.  They  had  made  their  way  from  far-off 
lands,  across  the  sea,  over  plain  and  mountain,  to  the 
sage-brush  region  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  with  a  dream 
of  empire  in  their  hearts,  and  in  the  hope  of  being 
able  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  unique  civilization. 
They  were  strong,  thrifty,  bold  and  persevering;  with 
a  strain  of  peculiar  religious  fanaticism,  but  resource- 
ful in  accommodating  themselves  to  their  great  under- 
taking, and  happy  in  the  consciousness  of  achievement 
well  begun. 

Several  miles  further  up  the  valley  was  the  cabin 
where  Carissa  Brand  was  living  alone  with  her  boy. 
All  about  was  the  piled-up  snow.  She  had  managed 
to  keep  the  short  space  from  the  door  to  the  wood-pile 
comparatively  clear.  The  window  to  the  east  had  long 
since  been  covered,  and  the  drifts  were  beginning  to 
encroach  upon  the  one  to  the  south. 

It  was  a  rude  interior  with  only  one  living  room, facing 

394 


WHAT  CAME   WITH   THE   STORM 


the  south,  and  two  bedrooms  partitioned  off  at  the  rear. 
The  fire-light,  strong  and  ruddy,  fell  upon  the  home- 
made furniture,  the  shining  kitchen  utensils,  the  bare 
walls  of  well-chinked  logs  and  the  movable  cot  brought 
in  for  the  night,  well-blanketed  and  cozy,  where  Moroni 
was  lying  listening  to  the  storm  and  blinking  with 
approaching  drowsiness.  In  one  corner  was  a  large 
pile  of  good-sized  sticks  of  fire-wood,  that  had  been 
brought  in  by  one  of  the  cattle-men  on  his  way  to  the 
feeding  sheds,  who,  through  a  spirit  of  kindliness, 
had  performed  this  service  a  few  days  before  the 
storm  began. 

"There's  a  cold  spell  a-coming,  and  heaps  of  snow," 
he  prophesied  shrewdly,  "and  it'd  be  tough  on  you  to 
have  to  lay  in  this  wood  after  it  once  gets  started." 

Carissa  was  seated  in  her  favorite  attitude,  a  little 
removed  from  the  direct  glow  of  the  fire,  her  hands 
folded  in  her  lap,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  body  in  a 
position  of  repose. 

Her  rich  brown  hair,  coiled  in  picturesque  manner, 
caught  the  glancing  light  of  the  fire  and  seemed  to 
glow  with  a  warm  radiance  of  its  own.  Her  face  was 
partly  in  the  shadow,  but  the  profile  told  the  unmis- 
takable story  of  rare  sensitiveness  united  with  high 
purpose  and  pure  resolve.  It  still  bore  a  look  of  unut- 
terable sadness,  but  the  old  familiar  bitterness  and 
unrest  had  given  way  to  a  strange  expression  of  peace. 
It  was  as  though  she  had  at  length  become  detached 
from  the  entanglement  of  her  life,  and  could  now  look 
upon  it  sorrowfully  but  without  acute  distress. 

But  this  peace  had  come  after  a  terrible  experience. 
She  feared  that  she  would  not  survive  the  winter,  and 
there  came  to  her  at  a  time  of  sore  weakness,  a  return 

395 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE    PROPHET 

of  the  wild  suggestion  that,  as  she  could  not  live  to 
guard  her  boy,  he  must  die  with  her. 

For  days  she  had  brooded  over  this  suggestion. 
The  weary  days  and  lonely  nights,  her  enforced  inac- 
tivity, the  pressure  of  her  own  trouble  that  had  some- 
how returned  upon  her  with  new  force  as  her  strength 
failed  for  battling  against  it;  together  with  the  persist- 
ent and  growing  apprehension  for  IVIoroni's  future,  as 
she  remembered  the  influences  that  would  shape  his 
character;  these  had  all  led  her  to  entertain  a  sugges- 
tion that  her  true  self  would  have  recognized  as  infa- 
mous.    These  were  her  darkest  days. 

But  that  time  had  passed. 

Since  then  she  had  found  a  new  liberty,  not  of  for- 
getfulness  but  of  faith.  She  believed  that  her  days 
were  numbered;  where  could  she  find  strength  to  carry 
on  this  hopeless  struggle  longer?  But  somehow  she 
believed  that  God  would  guard  her  treasure.  She  had 
ceased  to  think  of  her  husband's  deceit  and  infidelity, 
and  the  degradation  into  which  he  had  descended. 
She  sought  to  pray  for  him  as  the  father  of  her  boy, 
and  to  forgive  him  the  sorrow  he  had  brought  upon  her. 

Such  impressions  as  these  were  present  with  her  as 
she  sat  before  the  fire,  not  thinking,  but  dreaming  with 
both  eyes  open. 

Suddenly  there  seemed  to  be  a  lull  in  the  storm. 
She  found  herself  sitting  upright  listening  intently, 
— the  echo  of  a  faint  cry  in  her  ears. 

Was  it  a  cry?  Or  simply  the  voice  of  the  tempest? 
Again  the  wind  beat  furiously  upon  the  door,  and  a 
fresh  shower  of  sparks  rushed  up  the  chimney.  Her 
heart  was  beating  violently.  She  glanced  wide-eyed 
toward  the  cot  where  Moroni  was  sleeping   the  sweet 

396 


WHAT  CAME  WITH  THE   STORM 

sleep  of  childhood.  She  could  not  dream  of  any  wan- 
derer being  abroad  in  such  a  storm,  and  yet  the  mem- 
ory of  that  faint  cry  urged  her  to  go  and  look  out  into 
the  night. 

As  she^  left  her  chair  she  heard  something  brush 
heavily  against  the  door.  She  thought  it  must  be  a 
mass  of  snow,  dislodged  by  the  wind,  but  even  as  she 
sought  to  reassure  herself,  she  heard  the  sound  again, 
not  so  loud  as  before,  but  followed  by  something  like 
a  muffled  cry. 

Immediately,  in  spite  of  the  nervous  dread  that  had 
seized  her,  she  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  The 
fierce  blast  burst  with  fury  into  the  little  room,  and 
the  icy  particles  struck  her  face  sharply.  She  uttered 
a  cry  of  horror  as  a  man's  form  fell  helplessly  across 
the  threshold  and  lay  at  her  feet. 

Exerting  all  her  strength,  she  drew  him  into  the 
room.  In  the  effort  her  hands  were  cut  by  the  sharp 
icy  coating  of  his  garments.  She  hastened  for  a  stim- 
ulant, and  turned  him  over  that  she  might  admin- 
ister it. 

As  she  saw  the  face  a  low  wail  burst  from  her,  for 
she  was  looking  upon  the  face  of  her  husband! 

For  a  moment  she  knelt,  holding  the  bottle  convuls- 
ively and  staring  as  though  transfixed,  and  then  fever- 
ishly endeavored  to  pour  the  liquid  between  his  frozen 
lips.  He  made  an  effort  to  swallow,  but  strangled 
painfully.  Again  she  poured  the  whiskey  between  his 
lips,  and  opening  the  door  rushed  out,  and  returned  with 
her  dress  full  of  snow.  She  packed  it  gently  about  his 
face  and  head. 

It  was  a  terrible  task  to  cut  from  his  hands  the 
gloves  and  from  his  feet  the  heavy  boots,  but  she  did 

397 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

not  pause  until  his  frozen  limbs  were  packed  in  snow. 
When  she  applied  the  stimulant  again  he  seemed  to  be 
able  to  take  it,  and  she  knelt  by  his  side  in  piteous 
prayer  to  God. 

All  that  night  she  worked  over  him,  scarcely  con- 
scious of  her  terrible  exertions,  compassion  struggling 
with  aversion  in  her  heart.  Toward  morning  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  recognized  her;  he  tried  to  speak 
but  failed. 

The  lower  part  of  his  face  was  swollen,  and  his  lips 
were  cracked  and  bleeding.  Gently,  with  an  infinite 
pity,  she  applied  soothing  applications  and  sought  to 
restore  him,  but  finally  the  truth  broke  upon  her. 

It  must  all  be  in  vain.  She  had  called  him  back  to 
life,  but  she  could  not  hold  him.  His  eyes,  fixed  upon 
her,  were  gathering  an  unearthly  glaze. 

She  gave  him  more  of  the  whiskey.  It  revived  him, 
but  she  knew  that  it  was  only  for  the  moment;  a  feeling 
of  deathly  sickness  came  over  her.  So  this  was  to  be 
the  end! 

Brand  was  trying  again  to  speak,  it  was  a  supreme 
effort  and  the  words  came  with  terrible  labor. 

"Has — he — been  here?"  he  gasped. 

She  did  not  know  what  he  meant,  but  she  shook  her 
head  and  replied  gently:  "No  one  has  been  here,  not 
for  a  long  time.      Don't  try  to  speak,  it  hurts  you." 

A  spasm  crossed  his  face.  "Curse  him,"  he  said 
hoarsely. 

The  imprecation  at  such  a  time  seemed  infinitely 
terrible. 

"Don't,  don't,"  she  murmured,  "you  are  dying,  and 
I  cannot  bear  it."  She  bowed  her  head  and  began  to 
pray  aloud. 

398 


WHAT  CAME    WITH   THE    STORM 

"Carissa,"  Brand's  voice  interrupted  her,  "it  is  a 
long  journey.  I  can  explain  it  all  on  the  way.  You 
must  accept  it." 

His  mind  was  wandering  back  over  the  past.  He 
moved  his  hands  with  painful  effort  as  though  trying 
to  grope  his  way  in  the  darkness. 

"Something  came  between  us,"  he  continued,  bro- 
kenly. "I  forget  what  it  was.  Will — you — kiss  me — 
dearest?" 

She  pressed  her  lips  pityingly  to  his  forehead  and. 
burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  abandoned  herself  to 
weeping. 

For  a  long  time  he  lay  silent,  but  his  labored  breath- 
ing told  her  that  he  still  lived;  then  he  seemed  to 
rally,  he  tried  to  raise  himself  upon  his  elbow,  and  his 
voice  rang  out  for  the  last  time  in  tones  of  strong 
remonstrance. 

"No,  no,  it  is  not  true.     See,  it  is  written  here." 

Then  there  was  a  great  silence.  And  the  King  of 
Terrors  passed. 

The  morning  sun  shone  brilliantly  upon  the  earth. 
Slowly  it  mounted  to  the  crest  of  the  intercepting 
ridge,  until  it  could  look  broadly  over  into  the  valley. 
Before  its  coming,  the  storm  retreated  as  though 
abashed. 

The  warming  light  penetrated  through  the  snow- 
draped  windows  into  the  little  cabin,  where  Carissa  was 
holding  her  long,  sad  vigil. 

She  was  thinking  over  the  past.  What  pictures  were 
painted  for  her  by  the  facile-fingered  artist,  ^Memory! 
Pictures  of  quiet  scenes  before  her  real  life  had  begun, 
of  love  and  hope  and  kindling  enthusiasm;  illusions 
all,  they  seemed  to  her.      Panoramic  pictures  of  long 

399 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

distances,  broken  by  stirring  events  and  new  sensa- 
tions; dark  pictures  of  the  beginnings  of  disillusion- 
ment, followed  by  crushing  disappointment,  sorrow 
and  fear.  One  memory  alone  of  these  later  years  held 
any  touch  of  brightness:  Osborne's  frank  solicitude 
and  tender  sympathy  and  brave  resolve.  But  even 
this  bright  memory  had  no  power  to  awaken  hope. 

She  shivered  as  her  glance  turned  again  to  the  spot 
where  a  still  form  lay  shrouded  from  her  sight.  She  had 
forgiven  him,  but  her  forgiveness  was  but  the  expression 
of  a  great  human  pity;  there  had  been  no  reawakening 
of  love  for  this  man.  She  remembered  him  as  he  first 
appeared  to  her;  but  the  lie  of  his  life  had  been  on 
his  lips  at  the  moment  of  death,  and  poisoned  every 
thought  of  him.  The  deadness  of  her  heart  toward 
nim  was  the  measure  of  his  awful  debasement  in  her 
eyes. 

Even  now,  what  could  the  future  hold  for  her?  Her 
heart  was  sick  with  the  dreary  desolation  into  which 
her  life  had  fallen. 

Abroad,  the  sun  was  changing  the  storm-swept, 
snow-laden  valley  into  a  scene  of  gem-like  bril- 
liancy. 

With  the  full  dawning  of  the  new  day,  Osborne 
came.  He  had  found  shelter  with  the  cattlemen  for 
the  night,  and,  leaving  his  horse,  had  come  on  snow- 
shoes  over  the  drifts. 

She  recognized  him  instantly.  With  the  opening  of 
the  door  and  his  presence  on  the  threshold,  there 
rushed  an  intoxicating  promise  of  life  to  Carissa's 
overtaxed  heart.  It  was  Life's  answer  to  the  cry  of 
her  soul.  She  arose  to  her  feet  and  stretched  her 
hands    towards    him.       As    he    reached  forward    and 

400 


WHAT  CAME    WITH    THE    STORM 

caught  her  in  his  arms,  she  buried  her  face  upon  his 
shoulder  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"At  last,"  he  said,  gently,  and  sought  to  soothe  her 
with  tender  words  full  of  promise. 

"For  three  years  I  have  prayed  for  this  time,"  he 
continued,  in  broken  explanation.  "I  was  wounded — 
fever  set  in.  During  my  delirium,  they  put  me  aboard 
ship  for  New  York.  I  recovered  only  to  come  for 
you.  I  will  never  leave  you  again.  We  will  go 
together  from  this  desolate  place.  Thank  God,  that 
terrible  time  is  past." 

Her  sobbing  ceased.  She  lifted  her  head  and  bravely 
smiled  at  him  through  her  tears. 

"Come,"  she  said,  and  taking  his  hand  she  led  him 
to  the  place  where  her  husband  was  lying. 

"He  is  dead."  There  was  deep  solemnity  in  the 
simple  words;  Osborne  felt  it,  but  could  not  check  the 
throbbing  of  the  new  hope  that  came  to  him.  He 
bowed  his  head  reverently,  however,  as  she  added,  "I 
have  prayed  God  to  forgive  him,  and "  she  fal- 
tered as  though  yielding  to  her  exhaustion.  Turning 
to  the  cot,  where  Moroni  lay,  she  sank  upon  her  knees. 

"Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy,  God  guard  you  from  ever 
becoming  like  him." 

It  was  largely  owing  to  the  disturbed  state  of  the 
country  that  they  were  able  to  effect  their  escape  with- 
out molestation.  There  was  no  one  to  dispute  their 
passage  through  the  outlying  settlements,  on  the  way 
to  the  northern  trail  to  California.  The  men  of  the 
country  were  all  gathered  near  the  eastern  border  of 
Utah,  to  obstruct  the  entrance  of  the  troops  under  Gen- 
eral Harne^^ 

Maggie  did  not  know  of  the  fate  that  had  overtaken 

401 


BY    ORDER    OF    THE     PROPHET 

Brand  until  spring  returned.  He  had  been  reported 
missing,  but  the  impression  was  that  he  had  been 
killed  while  on  a  scouting  expedition,  or  in  a  fierce 
skirmish  that  had  taken  place  near  Echo  Canyon. 

The  intelligence  was  brought  to  her  in  a  tenderly 
worded  letter  from  Carissa.  Maggie  was  not  surprised 
at  the  news  of  her  escape,  for  she  had  seen  Osborne  at 
Salt  Lake  City,  and  she  herself  had  given  the  clue 
that  led  him  to  Cache  Valley. 

Her  generous  heart  rejoiced  at  the  brighter  day  that 
had  dawned  for  Carissa;  at  the  promise  of  peace  and 
quiet  happiness  that  had  come  with  a  love  that  had 
been  proved  true  and  generous;  but  her  heart  was  torn 
with  passionate  grief  at  her  own  bitter  loss. 

"He  came  in  that  terrible  storm,"  wrote  Carissa. 
"When  I  saw  him,  I  knew  he  must  die.  Dear  Mag- 
gie, I  know  what  terrible  sorrow  this  will  bring  you, 
and  my  heart  is  burdened  for  you.  I  forgave  him 
everything,  but  you  will  mourn  for  him.  We  buried 
him  in  a  grave,  under  the  snow,  by  the  cottonwood 
trees  you  planted." 

It  was  a  sad  pilgrimage  for  Maggie  to  the  burial 
place  of  the  man  she  had  loved.  She  had  never  seen, 
for  herself,  the  flaws  in  his  character,  nor  appreciated 
the  debasing  tendency  of  the  faith  he  embraced.  He 
had  never  deceived  her ;  poor  girl,  there  had  never 
been  any  necessity. 


402 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  TH  K  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO   RETURN 
THIS    BOOK   ON   THE   DATE   DUE.    THE   PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY    AND     TO     $1.00     ON     THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

//    //  / 

■ 

1/;':;  or,     ,.^ 

0 

J 

OCT     3    1938 

LD  21-20m-5,'39  (9269s) 

f725400 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


